Gold Mine Gutted

it was don delillo, whiskey, me,

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