Seven Nights a Week

You ride the streets Seven nights a week Look for us In every passing car We drive around Until the morning comes Sleep all day In Uncle Bob's woodshed On the corner of your house In the park and at the water tank We gather Always up to no good Forgive me mother We dream of leaving this town For good To you it seems We're going off the rails Deaf and dumb Ignoring all your phone calls From this point on There's no turning back Once we're gone It will never be the same On the corner of your house In the park and at the water tank We gather Always up to no good Forgive me mother We dream of leaving this town For good We gather Always up to no good Forgive me mother We dream of leaving this town For good We gather