[Verse 1]
Got off work from the pizza shop,
crust on my shirt, burn on the top.
Hopped in a ride, guy said all sad,
“Man, I wish I had some pants I could’ve packed.”
So I shrugged, popped the door,
peeled mine off like it was folklore.
He said, “But then you won’t have any, son!”
I laughed and said, “Eh… there’s always one.”
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[Chorus]
There’s always one,
walkin’ free,
legs in the wind
like a summer breeze.
One soul bold,
one butt in the sun,
you give your pants,
but someone’s got none.
No matter how many
kind folks run —
at that festival, man,
there’s always one.
---
[Verse 2]
I got to the gate with nothin’ below,
guy in line said, “Man, nice cargo show.”
Offered me his, said, “Take ‘em, dude,”
then he joined the pantsless attitude.
Next guy saw him, gave up his jeans,
now he’s the one in the nudist scene.
It wasn’t passed like a single baton,
it was pants musical chairs… and I set it on.
---
[Chorus — rowdier]
There’s always one,
showin’ skin,
smilin’ wide
like they meant to sin.
One man short,
one girl in fun,
bare legs dancin’
under moon and sun.
You pay it forward,
but you never outrun —
that pantsless fate…
there’s always one.
---
[Bridge — spoken over strummed banjo]
People offered, people swapped,
pants went down and around nonstop.
But somehow, always, one went bare —
just smilin’, shruggin’, breathin’ air.
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[Final Chorus — full-throttle, campfire gang vocal]
There’s always one,
doin’ their part,
pantsless pride
and an open heart.
It ain’t about shame,
it’s a festival run,
just good ol’ chaos
under the sun.
From the pizza shop
to the sacred drum —
you give, you take,
but there’s always one.
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