Drift off to sleep among
Hordes of orange sheep in the fields
Behind the Walgreens
Not the one you know but the one off that
Long road to nowhere we went on once while looking for
A place so desperately different from the one we found

Where you can crumple up a newspaper and throw
It up into the clouds, waiting for hours without even a
Whisper from its knowing pages

Beside the factory and
Inside they make little boys and girls into great
Law-makers and road builders who have lost their ways and
Dreams and wishes somewhere inside the world's collective furnace and
May never return to the
Land of the crayons