Dirty faces, packed suitcases Run for planes with untied laces In a hailstorm, setting sail for Places we fight tooth and nail for Bets are placed The odds are thin The gun's been shot The race begins The wheels will turn The top will spin For me, for she, for her, for him Wake on the shores of a distant land The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Sunburned back with my face in the sand The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Winning races, stealing bases Back to back, still dirty faces Sketch the traces, tie the laces Dot to dot to different places Finish line Is once again Crossed without Adrenaline The wheels will turn The tops will spin For me, for she, for her, for him Wake on the shores of a distant land The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Sunburned back with my face in the sand The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Eight hands pound on the concert grand The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band We'll dance on the stage or we'll sit in the stands The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band The wheels will turn The top will spin For me, for she, for her, for him Wake on the shores of a distant land The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Sunburned back with my face in the sand The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Gla** worn thin from the grains of sand The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band Fresh fruit's best when it's ripe and canned The hair, the TV, the baby, and the band