King of the Parking Lot

I pulled up in my van,

chrome rims, bumper sticker pride everybody in this parking lot knows who's

outside I don't need an arena,

I don't need the big lights I'm the king of this asphalt,

I own every one of these nights

King of the parking lot!

King of the parking lot!

Doesn't matter where I am,

baby, I'm all that I've got!

They say "go play a real venue," I say I don't need

one I'm the king of this kingdom,

and tonight, my kingdom's open

—and nobody's gonna tell me that a PARKING LOT isn't a REAL—

wait.

Is that a parking ticket on my windshield?

That's a forty-dollar parking ticket.

In MY kingdom.

On MY throne.

I don't even know how you get a ticket in your OWN

empire

that doesn't make sense,

that's not—

that's not how empires work

I called the number on the ticket

and I got put on hold for forty minutes

and the hold music was a cover of one of MY songs,

badly played,

and I just sat there and lost it

I'm not crying

about the forty dollars.

I'm crying because I recognized the cover

and it was THAT bad

king of the parking lot,

apparently, does not extend to municipal authority,

apparently,

I'm very sad

King of the parking lot...

I'm contesting this ticket,

I don't care what it costs me

emotionally...