He walks out to the car whistling she walks the dog for exercise the neighbor mows the lawn humming under the throes of suburban skies The optimally settled, routined unchaos so the loveseat became a couch years ago some stop here 'cause you can never go back methadone rates high, the statistics show but anyway, what do they know? Let's go buy a sensible car and have two point three children then let's mingle and socialize with businessmen we can wear Tommys so we can fit in we could go to Disney World on vacation every year until we retire then you could work on the house and yard and I could take up knitting by the fire and we could exist in silence there eventually you get immune to despair lost like the rest and don't even care in middle america somewhere. |