Swingline throughout the backyards of the midwest   Lean back, baby, in your seat on the train   Look through the window pane      Look at that kid over there with no underwear   And a silly dog who doesn't care   His mother stretches to reach the clothes line   While a mean neighbor leans on the population sign      Non-stop through the backyards of the midwest   Eavesdrop, baby, from your seat on the train   Look through the window pane      Some kinda buick left in a stream   It used to be somebody's' dream   A town stares at the summer heat waves   Past a smooth afternoon,   Ready to close for the day