the tree trunks like open gatesnfor the wild the state of daynbut by night they turn to the barsnon the prison windows of our roadsnall the dark secrets are inside themnand they're looming in front of you!nnwhy don't you stay in your little villagencause we're no more wild and you've got so muchnwork to donnso yeah, we can stop at the state parknwith our bellies full and no go too farnfrom your little car but if we were gonna do thatnwhy don't we just drive out to Walmartnand hang out in the parking lot, its almost dawnnnand the street lights look like moons