A song a day for six years seems like light years away from today
(Hey, hey, hey, hey)
Too many coincidences and instances of God's hand, it's insane
(Hey, hey, hey, hey)
I thought my way to greatness
I could claim this, but he gave me the brain (hey, hey, hey, hey)
You know what I'm saying?
And those thoughts can get confusing, it's amusing
But tonight, we celebrate (hey, hey, hey, hey)

Lay me down, put me out
Call me home, let me know
I'm ready to go
'Cause I was down, now, I've flown
Oh, what's reality lately?

Remember dreams seemed far away
Was pinching pennies like Lane and Hardaway
Now my beats make feasts for holidays in Greece
And I don't mean John Travolta
Remember dreams seemed far away
Was pinching pennies like Lane and Hardaway
Now my beats make feasts for holidays in Greece
And I don't mean John Travolta
And I don't mean John Travolta, yeah
And I don't mean John Travolta

Dancing under sunset, in the mountains, just reflecting for the day
(Hey, hey, hey, hey)
I've seen this in my head a million times
But to see it come to life is just insane (hey, hey, hey, hey)
Champagne and orange juice
Mimosas were Pulp Fiction in the way (hey, hey, hey, hey)
That all can get confusing, it's amusing, but tonight (ooh, ooh, ooh, celebrate)

Lay me down, put me out
Call me home, let me know
I'm ready to go
'Cause I was down, now, I've flown
Oh, what's reality lately? (oh)

Remember dreams seemed far away
Was pinching pennies like Lane and Hardaway
Now my beats make feasts for holidays in Greece
And I don't mean John Travolta
Remember dreams seemed far away
Was pinching pennies like Lane and Hardaway
Now my beats make feasts for holidays in Greece
And I don't mean John Travolta

Put me out
Call me home, let me know
I'm ready to go
'Cause I was down, now, I've flown
Oh, what's reality lately? (oh)

Remember dreams seemed far away
Was pinching pennies like Lane and Hardaway
Now my beats make feasts for holidays in Greece
And I don't mean John Travolta
Remember dreams seemed far away
Was pinching pennies like Lane and Hardaway
Now my beats make feasts for holidays in Greece
And I don't mean John Travolta

Far away, Hardaway
Holiday, don't mean John Travolta
Far away, Hardaway
Holiday, don't mean John Travolta

Lay me down, put me out
Call me home
(Holiday, don't mean John Travolta)
(Don't mean John Travolta)
Call me home
I'm ready to go

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Jon Bellion, Mark Williams, Raul Cubina, Travis Mendes