We drove to your parents’ home, out in suburbia talking about all the things you wish you could change.
Like that man you see for help with your head and the way you see yourself, or the way your parents run their house.
But that’s life in suburbia; where house wives drink all day, as the husbands work for the man for just enough pay.
You told me all about all the dysfunction in the neighborhood, like Ms. Robinson’s gay son.
And the kid who used to play with guns until one day he got mad and then he got sad and then nothing at all.
But that’s life in suburbia; where the kids aren’t all right, and the parents all fight.
So we hid in your room and rocked out to all your favorite bands as we got high and dreamt of distant lands.
We talk about white flight and we stay up all night, then we do something brand new, well at least new to you…
But that’s life in suburbia; where love like ours is just so taboo and everyone pretends to know the real you.
After we’re done I give you a hug and you tell me this wasn’t just a fling and that you’d like to make us a thing.
You told me about all your secrets and I told you mine, while Kurt sang along in a high pitched whine.
But that’s life in suburbia; where the kids’ romances are built overnight as the parents struggle and sleep apart at night.
But it didn’t matter to us, as we sat together in your new car, wishing and wanting for this to go far.
But it wasn’t meant to be, or at least that’s what you told me, as you drove me home, out of your suburbia.
But that’s life in suburbia; where it’s fun to play until the end of the day…
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