It Was Don Delillo, Whiskey Neat,
And A Blinking Midnight Clock
Speakers On A TV Stand
Just A Turntable To Watch
Only Smoke Came Out Our Mouths
On All Those Hooded Sweatshirt Walks
We Were A Stroke Of Luck
We Were A Gold Mine That Gutted Us

And From The Sidelines You'd See Me Run
Until I'm Out Of Breath
Living The Good Life, I Left For Dead
The Sorrowful Midwest
Well I Did My Best...
To Keep My Head

It Was Grass Stain Jeans And Incompletes
And A Girl From Class To Touch
But You Think About Yourself Too Much
And You Ruin Who You Love
Well All These Claims At Consciousness
My Stray Dog Freedom
Let's Have A Nice Clean Cut
Like A Bag We Buy And Divy Up

And From The Sidelines I See You Run
Until You're Out Of Breath
And All Those White Lines That Sped Us Up
We Hurried To Our Death
Well I Lagged Behind...
So You Got Ahead