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There's nothing to do in the midwest but dream |
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Like spiders on the walls of abandoned factories |
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Setting fire to the trash, dance beneath the fog |
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When the cops come we run like hell |
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Stealing from our souls born cheap out here |
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A dream that can't compete up against the fear |
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Of never getting away |
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And there's nothing to do in the midwest but dream |
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There's nothing to do in the midwest but dream |
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Into the earth and out of the past |
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We plug in our guitars and begin to feed off the spirits in the air |
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Flying in our minds, the sound we try to hear |
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Is so many years from ever being defined |
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But there's nothing to do in the midwest but dream |
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But dream |
