On the campus district Up the street from the theater district Down the road from University Circle

Everyone said she was the best teacher Maybe what she taught people didn't think was work We were a terrible class We could do nothing just arrived without a clue Gen X was not a new term Economic and cultural neglect old as people We learned throwing scarves in the air that lingered The physics was never questioned Utilitarian teaching tool We defy gravity all the time Our Senior year we lost everything we were supposed to win Defined by our lack of observers We secretly sold weapons to Iranians then Cause congress would not pay for war in central America We were not the focus that much we knew I learned to juggle my Freshman year Practiced a play all year we never preformed Was not mine or the teacher's fault

I have seen them on the margins In between where people go Often they are on bicycle We have been in the same places They saw something different There are many things I can tell you That I can only dream  

I followed in their footsteps Distant destination brought close There were always trails Most animals are going to the same places The world beats paths For an eternity it was enough Was always a matter of time From a certain place you could look Our galaxy an active quasar Words find other meaning They want to stay around Like most things created Before we know if they will work The road as novelty They built it anyway You are gonna break down Always a matter of time What men make must mend maintenance all the time In places the road dies We cut mountains in half Few remains in those long ways around Nature loves to be left alone with a road Twisted and turned It is always a matter of time This place they crossed the petrified forest Now petrified as well I felt I had been there in slides In the seventies the best we had Best color and detail Your memory can be confused Such strange ways to travel With companions of many kind Baggage packed better with each stop The mother road brings...

We do not go in circles around sun Music rains down from satellites The soundtrack of our lives Too much heat in the climate system The right amount of music playing We must be something different I can not go fifty-five Not sure which age I would pick if I could Have never been one thing The sun drags us along Our frame pulled and twisted down the road There is nothing simple to do Forever never here again There is something simple to be