Hairpool

I'll tell you in street intersections because they give you
 a place to go. Give meanings to lines on maps, and tell 
you how you're gonna get home. Now I'm back here in the 
Midwest, where everything's familiar and sincere - but 
everything's external. Would nothin just happen to you 
here, in-between coasts?

Looking for what it was you lost on 2nd St. Forgot what it 
was on Washington. And you let it go and jumped in that 
pool on Dunn. We're still in town, isn't that fun.

Now I know there's been some hard times, and I don't mean 
you and me. You're over believing and back to forgetting, 
and you're turning on T.V. And what you see just makes you 
numb, and the headlines all become a blur. And the years 
and the lives scroll by the bottom of the screen like 
desert sand. We're entrenched in a mess, embedded in our 
beds, sleeping in. What I wouldn't give, to want to live 
like I once did.

Looking for what it was you lost on 2nd St. I'm staring 
through the windows of my friends, and I can see all their 
lofted beds. Imagining all these lofty dreams in skinny 
clouds above their heads, waitin' for the hesitation to 
end.

This town is way too small to ever need the bus. So meet me
 at the pool that they keep unlocked all night for us.