Seven miles from the Husky station
On the edge of town one Friday night
My hands are soaked with gasoline
If I keep on scrubbin’ they might come clean
A penny saved is a penny earned
I’m counting pennies but my fingers burn
Been working on my attention span
But I got my pride and I’m making plans
This is not the bed I made
No, it’s not the bed I made
Champagne on the patio
I'm not invited but I think I’ll go
And ask that man how he condones
The state of things in that slum he owns
Crouched here in the black of night
I got no doubts about wrong and right
‘Cause justice seen, is justice done
And they can see the flames from the 401
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