Gotta Getup!

Gotta getup,
Gotta getup!

It’s the middle of the night.
Panic sets in.
You have to write the check,
You’re ass can’t cash.
It’s a bad dream in real time.
Front line.

We’re so glad you’re feelin’ good.
Down in the Hollywood.
You can’t preach,
What you can’t reach.
Rose color glasses are blind.
Front lines.

Gotta getup,
Gotta getup!

Life gets ugly.
Pretty boys in their jammies in the hood.
Gonna try to make you feel good.
You can tell me.
I’d rather you Zell me.
Front lines.

You can write your song.
You can’t right my wrong.
We’re still all alone.
Still on our own.
Back of the line.
Where you belong.

Gotta getup,
Gotta getup!

%d bloggers like this: