It was Don 
Delillo, whiskey neat
And a blinking midnight clock
Speakers on a 
TV standJust 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 
MidwestWell 
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 divvy up
And from the sidelines 
I see you run
Until you're out of breath
And all those white lines that spread us up
We hurried to our death
Well I lagged behind
So you got ahead