I can tell that you're trying not to open your eyes, but the sun is too bright. 
Come, give up and move on. Leave that city and drive to nowhere. 
I followed the sun as it passed by my streets, my friends, my home. 
And I swore under my breath that they would never see my face around here. 
Never Again. I shut the door and put that beater in gear. 
I watched your face get smaller in my rear-view mirror. 
I put my finger out and I screamed, 
"Here's that white picket fence. Here's that American dream."