Lukewarm Hot Dogs in the Car Dealership Parking Lot

Lyrics

(Intro) (Twinkly, melodic, math-rock guitar intro) (Quiet, strained singing) Two hundred and fifty years of American independence... And I’m wearing a damp polo shirt... watching the grill rust. (Verse 1) (Upbeat pop-punk tempo kicks in) Motor Werks is open from nine to four I'm staring at the puddles creeping under the showroom door They blew five grand on a public cookout Set up the white tents, but there’s nobody to look out for The weather radar's bleeding red and green It’s the most pathetic Fourth of July I’ve ever seen And management is acting like we’re gonna pack the floor! (Chorus) (Explosive, heavy guitars, raspy yelling vocals) And I'm eating lukewarm hot dogs in the dealership lot! Five thousand dollar budget and this is all that we got! It’s pouring rain on the Fourth of July Watching all these empty, useless hours just pass right by! Who wants a soggy bun when the sky is turning grey?! Nobody is buying a car here today! (Verse 2) (Fast, driving rhythm, palm-muted guitars) Manager says, "Keep your smiles on, guys" While the mustard water mixes with the rain in my eyes I'm pacing the floorboards, tracking mud on the tile Haven't seen a single customer in a very long while I could be drinking with my friends, could be watching the sky Instead I'm guarding bulk-pack relish from a single fly The charcoal is soaked and my khakis are ruined! (Bridge) (Music cuts out completely except for a slow, clean, noodly guitar and a quiet bassline) (Spoken word, sounding exhausted and confused) I just... I don't understand the logistics of it. Who goes car shopping in a thunderstorm? On a national holiday? We spent five thousand dollars on meat. (Vocals start shaking, building in volume) The charcoal is literally soup. (Desperate, full-volume scream) THE CHARCOAL IS SOUP! (Chorus) (Full band crashes back in, massive energy) And I'm eating lukewarm hot dogs in the dealership lot! Five thousand dollar budget and this is all that we got! It’s pouring rain on the Fourth of July Watching all these empty, useless hours just pass right by! Who wants a soggy bun when the sky is turning grey?! Nobody is buying a car here today! (Outro) (Fast, punk-rock power chords) Nobody's showing up! Just let me go home! Lock the doors at four! Please lock the doors at four! (Abrupt ending with cymbal choke and guitar feedback)