I tried doing the long division and seeing what matched up
But the amount of time and the life lines upon your hands didn't meet
Those hands I thought I knew so well were telling stories of a lost past
As the fresh Wyoming air hit my hair and then bounced back
Visions of these midwest dreams were barely able to play out
While I looked out my window to see the plastic, fake, cheap imagery
As Pink Flamingos lined up and down this sad pathetic street
I remember regretting never knowing Mom well enough before I left
And Dad sent me a postcard this fall saying he wish I were here
I tried doing the long division and seeing where It went wrong
As I find that this simple algebra, is more complex than it seems
cheers.
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