out of tune again

In this town of a thousand people
Where there's nothing much to do
I'll be at your door next morning
And when cars finally quit pollution
And you're laughing with a lovable grin
I'll be at your door next morning

If the cops quit knocking down people
Just a few towns over from you
I'll be skipping through Main Street waiting
For the time that you come from the big town
To where exhaust fumes simply decay
I'll be hoping for the breaking

Since last June, she's been going out of tune
She only calls once in a blue moon
When there's nothing much to do
She hates when the imp kids try to start
She trips over spoiled kids laying in the park
With the picnic residue

She works shops and says "Try it on for size"
Only wants to cry when it's coming out her eyes
And there's nothing else to do
She writes slowly 'cause she can't hold a pen
Says a lot of things that she never even meant
But it's in good fun to do