Uncle Tupelo

way in overhead
caught off guard by the gutter
everybody's spending his time
just building and making
someday someone will say, for what
nine to five in a blind alley
equals three sheets to the wind
can't remember when it started
don't know where that it ends
and there's never a dull day
when you're beaten by nonfiction
God still reads the headlinesthe front page hope is missing
working away on a rebuilt freeway
straight away from the slash and burn cities