Gold Mine Gutted

It was Don Delillo, whiskey neat And a blinking midnight clock Speakers on a TV stand, just a turntable to watch When the smoke came out our mouths On all those hooded sweatshirt walks You were a stroke of luck We were a goldmine and 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