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You get in the car, you buckle up.
You’re not going far, so you look in your cup.
The golden liquid referred to as beer, has your mind moving slow,
And you feel as though you’re not here.
A vision of pain, fire, and screams;
Through your head it wilds streams.
Your friends pile in front, some in the bed
You’re feeling sick, with a throb in your head.
You start your truck, now you’re out of luck.
Looking around at the face of each friend,
You notice they’re all sporting the same trend.
Of all the cards you’ve been dealt,
None of them were wearing a seatbelt.
You show them a nervous grin,
Then check to see what gear you’re in.
You shift into drive, your fear coming alive.
You know you’re doing wrong, you’ve known all along.
You put it in park, and stare into the dark.
Friends; impatient, grumble and groans
But they already know, so they get out their phones.
After all but you and two others part,
You finally feel ready for the truck to start.
You and your two friends get in the truck,
With a clear head, you turn and say “buckle up”.
To you they say “we’ll survive”,
With an owning tone you tell to them “Arrive Alive”…