The Hangdogs

out there




in the last bar left on first street he counted back the years
said, "i never planned much but i never thought iąd still be here."
then he raised his beer, said, "here's to you, you made it out."
didn't know if i should tell him out there ain't all you read about

out there   ain't no pot a gold and damn few rainbow
out there   heat still burns and scars heal just as slow

out there's just someplace else boys can't figure girls
and the assholes in the suits and ties still rule the world
and the dream of America ends when the alarm clock wails
by day it's same-old-job, same debt, same TV fairy tales

CHORUS
we go looking for oz or shangri la, wind up everywhere else
out of the frying pan and into hell

where first street ends the highway heads on outta town
and it hooks up with the interstate bout 20 miles down
and every exit's got its dreamers belly up to some local well
and there's a broken dream for every mile 'tween here and somewhere else

we go looking for oz or shangri la, wind up everywhere else
out of the frying pan and into hell