Guitar (electric, slide, EBow), stylophone, pizzicato violin, drums (real, keyboard, sampled), toy drum set, tongue drum, vocals, vocoder
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And as we're stumbling home from the bar
I hatch ideas of cunning and greed
It's a cog in a perfect design
To fulfill all the basest of needs
And we could hold up a Yuengling truck
We'll live like kings
And we can never be sober again
The drunkest of kings
I know guys who know guys
Who live on the streets
I know guys who never practice what they preach
And they always claim that they're up to no good
My friends and I we call them the Scourge of Wynnewood
And as we ride the R5 to our stop
At least that's what they still call it to me
It's just a jump and a skip and a hop
To the McMansion where we came to meet
And you can tell that their reputations
Precede themselves
They drive a beat-to-shit Mercedes Benz
And like to raise hell
We raid the beer distributor
It's closed late most nights
We smash a row of mailboxes
And spray paint traffic lights
If we ignore we're twenty-four
Let's party for hours
We shotgun cans of Victory
Cause victory is ours
When we get arrested they don't skip a beat
The Main Line kids they're living consequence-free
Their dads bail us out so we
Don't make local news
The scourges of Wynnewood are
Pretty cool dudes
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