Out in the driveway this house doesn't havenI wash the car that I don't ownnI keep myself busynYou talk on the phonenAnd lose track of timenI get lost in the foamnnI watch the water run through the cracksnDown to the curbnPast the painted address that's fading undisturbednDown to the end of the streetnWhere neighbors I don't have and I meetnInto the sewer beneath the block that doesn't existnnNow I'm in the cat box panning for goldnAt least in cat years I'm four years oldnThe dream I had last night I'll have againnNot knowing what it means to dream of a lifenI'd never want to begin