Is this how it was intended?
The sunrise over smokestacks in the Midwest
The beauty of this abandoned factory
Christmas lights blinking on and off all out of time in what used to be
Your pink house dreams of a middle class America

I'm trying to believe in you
But all these satellites
And shattered dreams are blocking out my view
Please don't forget who you really are
'Cause nothing really matters when we're gone

Fell in love with his Kena waitress
They honeymooned in Memphis
They were married by the drive-up window
Trailer parks, neon signs, and an empty box of Lucky Strikes
All used up on the dashboard of America

I'm trying to believe in you
But this world sold its faith
For parking lots and drunk sincerity
Please don't forget how small we really are
Nothing really matters when we're...

You'll be saddened to know
The train tracks you once walked on as a boy
Are now nothing but a graveyard

Please don't forget how small we really are
Nothing really matters when we're gone
I'm trying to believe in you

Copyright: Wixen Music Publishing
Writer(s): CHRIS KNAPP, JOHN COLLURA, KRIS ROE, MICHAEL DAVENPORT