Youâre done with work and youâre driving home in your GMC half ton You realize the windâs off shore and thereâs a couple hours left of sun You havenât surfed âcause youâve been working so much and the idea sounds like fun So you stop at the house and you pick up your ten-foot rhino chasing gun Youâve got no friends to surf with âcause theyâre all strung out or in the joint Youâre looking for thrills and you know where to find them so you drive out to the point You canât believe your eyes-n Twenty-foot waves are stacked to the horizon Ride a wave To a surferâs grave Twenty locals stand guard at the trail head, smiling and smoking a spliff You know that if you paddle out theyâre liable to roll your truck off a cliff Your windshieldâs smashed and your tires are slashed before you even make it down the trail The vibes are thick, but so are the lines and it still beats the county jail Rocks are raining down all around as you put your wetsuit on The aloha spirit was once the norm, but at the bay those days are long gone Itâs too big to be fun Put down the gun Ride a wave To a surferâs grave The reef is boiling and the tubes are spitting and you feel the surge of the tide Ten foot thick lips throw out so far that Mack trucks can find a place to hide You see a fifty-foot wave and itâs calling your name so you stand up and take the drop But you pearl and and get sucked up over the falls with a mountain of water on top A friendly man named Diver Dan emerges from the hull of a sunken freighter The rusted sign above his cave spells out S.S. Dominator How does it feel Livinâ like a moray eel? Oooops youâre out of breath Now itâs time for death