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