This is a song about "Space bar"

Lookin' for these better days

We're running out of space,

Bar fresher than a motherfucking peppermint

I know it hurt but life's not perfect

Experimentation with inflation, float away in space and place a space station,

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

For shootin' done to you or we're losin' money

But you insist on going bar for bar, that'd be

Baby, you know who you are

And once you at a bar

Just listen to this bar,

How simple they are

Overseas or outer space

Yeah hail mary full of grace