You're Not Wrong, Walter / God, This Place Sucks

In Abercrombie and cowboy boots
You slowed down your new Jeep Wrangler
To call me a queer
I showed you my middle finger
Three percent logos
(Three percent logos)
And Trump Train stickers on your window
(And all them stickers on)
You love rollin' smoke
(Your truck rollin' smoke)
On home to Becky in your subdivision
You love to wear your guns
(You love to wear your guns)
To go buy beer from the gas station
(To go buy beer from the)
And just to be real safe
(Just to be real safe)
Extended magazines of ammunition
Your thin blue line t-shirt
(Your thin blue line t-shirt)
No one can make you put a mask on
(No one can make you do it)
You say it isn't fair
(You say it isn't fair)
I say you're just a fuckin' asshole
God this place sucks...
Should have made my break when I was seventeen
Even then I knew this place would be the death of me
A decade down the road and I've got nothin to show
But a constant dread and a damaged soul
A crisis to avert
(A crisis to avert)
Something I need to get a grasp on
(Go on and fucking do it)
I'm over being scared
(No time for feeling scared)
This ain't a state, this is a fucking blackhole
I'll put the world
In my headlights
I've packed my things
To leave tonight
I could go to Portland, maybe California
Maybe even south of the motherfucking border
I don't know where I should go
But I don't belong in Idaho
And I don't know what distance really makes a difference
To the fucking bullshit, good fucking riddance
I don't know where I should go
But I don't belong in Idaho
Fuck