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It was Don who delivered the whiskey And a blinking midnight clock Speakers on a TV stand Just a turntable to watch Only smoke came out our mouths On all those hooded sweatshirt walls We were a stroke of luck You were a gold mine that gutted us And from the sidelines you'd seen 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 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 straight on freedom Let's have a nice clean cut Like a bag we buy and divy 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 hurried to our death Well I lagged behind... So you got ahead