It was Don Delillo, whiskey neat
And a blinking midnight clock
Speakers on a TV stand, just a turntable to watch
When the smoke came out our mouths
On all those hooded sweatshirt walks
You were a stroke of luck
We were a goldmine and they gutted us
And from the sidelines
You 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 stained 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 divvy 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 hurry to our death
Well I lagged behind
So you got ahead
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