Gold Mine Gutted

It was Don Delillo, whiskey neat, and a blinking midnight clock

Speakers on the TV stand, just a turntable to watch

When the smoke came out our mouths on all those hooded sweatshirt walks

We were a stroke of luck

We were a gold mine, 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