I'll tell you in street intersections because they give you a place to go. Give meanings to lines on maps, and tell you how you're gonna get home. Now I'm back here in the Midwest, where everything's familiar and sincere - but everything's external. Would nothin just happen to you here, in-between coasts?
Looking for what it was you lost on 2nd St. Forgot what it was on Washington. And you let it go and jumped in that pool on Dunn. We're still in town, isn't that fun.
Now I know there's been some hard times, and I don't mean you and me. You're over believing and back to forgetting, and you're turning on T.V. And what you see just makes you numb, and the headlines all become a blur. And the years and the lives scroll by the bottom of the screen like desert sand. We're entrenched in a mess, embedded in our beds, sleeping in. What I wouldn't give, to want to live like I once did.
Looking for what it was you lost on 2nd St. I'm staring through the windows of my friends, and I can see all their lofted beds. Imagining all these lofty dreams in skinny clouds above their heads, waitin' for the hesitation to end.
This town is way too small to ever need the bus. So meet me at the pool that they keep unlocked all night for us.
