Break up with a Poet

I'm looking forward to middle class problems
May they always keep me down
As I take one last dismissive look around
There's a field a short hop north they would call the gate to hell
Now just a waiting room to what comes next
We spend our days now killing time
And I must admit it's nice
But I'd like to get this last part over with
My boots still on the ground though my head's already there
Up past that waiting room to anywhere else

Baby we can haunt a record store and
Maybe we can judge a bar by ceiling height
Everybody's got their own reward
Mine will start with two beers in a tent tonight

When you pack it up and start for home
Leave the dirt and stench behind
Break up with a poet
So you don't put yourself too high
And remember that Manas is just a
state of mind until you leave it, too

I think I'll sleep a few more hours
Then throws some rocks at evil crows
Buy some t-shirts like we're at Niagara Falls
I suppose it's much the same how the white space fills the days
We'll pass the Baltica and start to fade

Baby we can get back to getting old
Maybe I can age in to the landscape