Swingline throughout the backyards of the midwest

Lean back, baby, in your seat on the train

Look through the window pane



Look at that kid over there with no underwear

And a silly dog who doesn't care

His mother stretches to reach the clothes line

While a mean neighbor leans on the population sign



Non-stop through the backyards of the midwest

Eavesdrop, baby, from your seat on the train

Look through the window pane



Some kinda buick left in a stream

It used to be somebody's' dream

A town stares at the summer heat waves

Past a smooth afternoon,

Ready to close for the day