Midwest - Joseph Arthur

There’s nothing to do in the midwest but dream

Like spiders on the walls of abandoned factories

Setting fire to the trash, dance beneath the fog

When the cops come we run like hell

Stealing from our souls born cheap out here

A dream that can’t compete up against the fear

Of never getting away

And there’s nothing to do in the midwest but dream

There’s nothing to do in the midwest but dream

Into the earth and out of the past

We plug in our guitars and begin to feed off the spirits in the air

Flying in our minds, the sound we try to hear

Is so many years from ever being defined

But there’s nothing to do in the midwest but dream

But dream