When September Ends - Green Day
He told a little story, that sounded well rehearsed
Four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst
The brew was in my hand, and he was on my tip
His voice was hoarse, his throat was dry, he asked me for a sip
He said, "Can I get some?"
I said, "You can't get none!"
Had a chance to run
Pulled out his shotgun
Quick on the draw, I thought I'd be dead
He put the gun to my head and this is what he said...