Swingline
lean back, baby, in your seat on the train
look through the window pane
Look at that kid over there with no underwear
and a silly dog who doesn't care
his mother stretches to reach the clothes line
while a mean neighbor leans on the population sign
Non-stop through the backyards of the midwest
eavesdrop, baby, from your seat on the train
look through the window pane
Some kinda Buick left in a stream
it used to be somebody's' dream
a town stares at the summer heat waves
past a smooth afternoon,
ready to close for the day