Lyrics

It’s Friday night and the town’s lit up,
Casey’s is bumpin’ like a backwoods club.
Neon’s flickerin’, pumps run slow,
And the crackheads roll in, puttin’ on a show.
Some dude’s in the corner tryna sell a TV,
Says it’s “brand new,” but it smells like weed.
A girl’s in the aisle screamin’ at the chips,
Knocked over a display, now she’s throwin’ fits.
Ohhh, down at Casey’s, it’s a goddamn scene,
Midnight madness, red-eye fiends!
Hot boxin’ cars by the diesel line,
Crackheads dancin’ under neon signs!
Old man Leroy’s on his last damn nerve,
Workin’ third shift—he don’t get paid enough for this.
Some tweaker’s arguin’ with the roller grill,
Sayin’ “this ain’t fresh!” like it ever will.
There’s a guy at the counter countin’ pocket change,
Tryna buy a Swisher, but he’s actin’ strange.
Meanwhile, in the lot, some dude’s passed out,
Took one too many, now he’s down for the count.
Ohhh, down at Casey’s, it’s a goddamn scene,
Midnight madness, red-eye fiends!
Truck stop legends and sketchy deals,
This ain't a movie—man, this shit’s real!
Cops roll up, but they don’t stick ‘round,
Just flash the lights, let ‘em settle down.
Ain’t no law gonna fix this place,
Casey’s at midnight’s a whole damn race.
Some kid on a bike tryna sell fake pills,
Some dude in pajamas just vibin’ for thrills.
Some chick in a hoodie got lost in the back,
Now she’s tryin’ to barter with an old six-pack.
Leroy sighs, clocks out at dawn,
Shakes his head—"I’m too damn gone."
But next weekend, when the moon shines bright,
Casey’s’ll be lit with that crackhead life.
Ohhh, down at Casey’s, it’s a goddamn scene,
Midnight madness, red-eye fiends!
They come for the gas, but stay for the show,
Ain’t no place like this, man, everybody knows!
Just another weekend at Casey’s, bro…