Hot red dust, fire yellow corn,
Windows down, sunglasses on.
The road stretches on far and long,
To towns where fortunes may be found.

Build, borrow, build,
Can you desire be filled?
Borrow, dream, fail,
But don’t give the game away
That today wasn’t your day.

Party on. That’s your song.
That’s the battle cry and the anthem to which you belong.
Party on, father and son,
Champagne and fleeting streamers,
Photos and believers, party on.

Open books, more than you can read,
Oh great educator taking the lead,
But within there are empty unwise minds,
The don’t have the goods but they still have your pride.

Party on. That’s your song.
That’s the battle cry and the anthem to which you belong.
Party on, father and son,
Champagne and fleeting streamers,
Photos and believers, party on.

Who gave you the right to lead us in this fight?
The great liberator is found with the gun in his hand, finger on the trigger.
That caring father figure developed a greedy sneer and snigger,
And his children think they’re helping orphans,
But they ignorantly harm.
Or ignore.
Or just don’t see.