Dark avenues turn into open roads
Crowded tenements into well-kept homes
Some folks die wealthy and young with bitter hearts
Others stay healthy long enough to see joy wither and scar
I don't want any part of it
To be the victim, the assailant, or the advocate
So we're riding out to where we don't exist
Headlights cutting bright into the darkness
Oh, obscurity has found me in a motel suite
A thousand miles from the refinery
And polluted streets we grew to resent
Where we'd coexist with poison family and bitter friends
Chain link or picket, no one was admitted to the winning end
We were all wolves or lambs for the man behind the curtain
Arguing in circles for the prosecution or the defense
Lying on the hood of the car watching the sun go down
The devil in me knows one day we'll have to turn around
"Can you imagine," Jenny says to me
As the moon rises over the beach,
"Having our own place by the ocean?
I know it will never be,
But isn't it pretty to dream?"
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