Where I'm From
Where I’m from parents still spin vinyl on dusty record players
Kitchen counters full of organic, non-perfumed hand soap
Cause the suburbs makes everyone allergic
We’re told not to yell up rooms or down stairs
But listen to TV too loudly
While lazy D bangs everything
but the drumset in the basement
There are crispy leaves falling from firecracker trees
where I’m from
Illuminating the old houses and the pitch black cul-de-sac
While kids play recklessly outside houses with
unneeded alarm systems
And you never hear the Prius coming up the street
where I’m from.
Memories are stuffed in shoeboxes and never albums
We smoke prime times on the hood of our Jetta and
Imagine a night without stars
Hand me downs riding open streets with
Case Logic ripping up
The rear view
