Twelve Hours of Chaos

[Intro] Diez Firzt, yeah. Back again. And tonight we’re talking about The Purge. “All crime is legal for twelve hours.” Cool. So naturally… Everybody becomes a fucking serial killer. Really? [Verse 1] Sirens go off, now the streets turn red, Everybody grabs a mask and aims for your head. Government says every law is dead— And nobody thinks, “Free parking instead?” You got twelve whole hours, no rules, no fines, Could ignore every curb and every stop sign. Drive ten under in the passing lane, Double-park sideways just to cause some pain. Tailgate somebody. Cut in line. Take twelve ketchup packets when the limit says nine. Walk through Walmart eating grapes unpaid, Put one banana down as “organic kale.” Crime! Absolute menace. Society may never recover. [Pre-Chorus] But no, every dude grabs a machete instead, Like crime got one option: “Murder somebody dead.” Brother, there are misdemeanors begging for attention. Expand your horizons. Use imagination. [Chorus] It’s Purge Night, crime is free, Why’s everybody trying to murder me? Run a red light. Steal some Wi-Fi. Tell the movie theater your kid is five. Jaywalk twice. Park too close. Take the hotel shampoo and the little soap. Every crime is legal, that’s what they said— Yet somehow everybody picked: “Murder Fred.” Diez Firzt, yeah. Priorities. [Verse 2] You could drive downtown with no registration, No turn signal— Complete devastation. Cross the street where there ain’t no stripe, Ride your bicycle without a light. Throw one bottle in the regular trash. Don’t separate recycling. Pure fucking chaos. Put your trash can out one day too soon, Mow your lawn at three in the afternoon. Wait. No. Three in the morning. Now THAT’S evil. Take two samples when the sign says one, Hop the little fence at the miniature golf. Sneak outside with an open beer— But somehow Greg bought combat gear? Greg! You work accounting! Yesterday you asked me how to print a PDF! Why are you wearing body armor?! [Chorus] It’s Purge Night, crime is free, Why’s everybody trying to murder me? Speed by six. Don’t pay a toll. Take a shopping cart three blocks from the store. Feed the ducks where the sign says no. Let your dog on the couch at an Airbnb. Every crime is legal, twelve hours ahead— Yet Brenda from payroll wants everyone dead. [Verse 3] Imagine one Purge movie where people act normal. Siren goes off. One guy whispers: “Tonight… I download a movie illegally.” His wife gasps. “You monster.” Another man removes a mattress tag. Police can’t stop him. Absolute psychopath. Some teenager buys spray paint after ten, Then spray-paints: “Kevin smells.” And goes home again. Old man Phil commits tax fraud light, Rounds seventeen dollars wrong that night. One woman goes thirty-six in a thirty-five— THIS IS THE PURGE. SHE’S OUT OF CONTROL. Meanwhile every movie villain’s outside Wearing LED rabbit masks with kitchen knives. Why? You could steal cable. You could pirate Adobe. You could put seventeen items through the “15 ITEMS OR LESS” lane. That’s villainy. [Bridge] And where are the weird crimes? Run down the road completely naked. Pee behind a library. Climb a statue. Ring every doorbell. Put your feet on the dashboard. Leave your cart in the parking spot. Don’t return it. Oh. Okay. Too far. Some crimes are unforgivable. [Breakdown] “Twelve hours where all crime is legal.” Movie writers: “Murder?” Murder. “Murder?” Murder. “Maybe theft?” Murder while stealing. “Traffic violation?” Vehicular murder. “Public indecency?” Naked murder. Guys! There are other buttons! [Final Chorus] It’s Purge Night, crime is free, Why’s everybody trying to murder me? Cut through yards. Ignore HOA. Build a shed six inches too far away. Skip the fare. Lie about age. Bring outside snacks to a baseball game. Commit one crime so petty instead— Quit acting like “illegal” just means “make them dead.” All crime legal! Use your head! Steal a cone! Paint a shed! Park crooked! Take extra bread! Anything! ANYTHING— Besides murder again. [Outro] Diez Firzt, yeah. If The Purge was real, I’m not hunting anybody. I’m parking in a loading zone. Maybe feeding wildlife. Possibly walking into a gas station barefoot. Real outlaw shit.