they live in middletown...

I'm tired, I tell you. Tired.

Even the simple task of buying everything on the list-- and nothing more save pineapple and bananas --gives rise to her bitching.

That's all I need to hear-- Hello. Goodbye. Disconnect. Retreat to here...

I'm tired, I tell you. Tired.


Here's a bit of verse... apropos to the moment.

It's understood
By every single person who'd be elsewhere if they could
So far, so good
And life's not unpleasant in their little neighborhood

And now I find I've been put into a Rush mood. Not for the uplifting lyrics of much of their music, but for Grace Under Pressure, to my mind the darkest of their albums.

Were I a brave man. I'd of pulled the trigger years ago. But I have more faith than I have anguish.

What happens to the dreams we're too afraid to seize hold of?

Dreams flow across the heartland
Feeding on the fire
Dreams transport desires
Drive you when you're down
Dreams transport the ones that need
To get out of town...

...They dream in Middletown

And from Richard Marx...

We used to walk down by the river
She loved to watch the sun go down
We used to walk along the river
And dream our way out of this town

I feel a leaving comin' on.