Songtext von Surveyors And Cranes

Surveyors and cranes And all that remains is a creek where The water runs away when the rain begins to fall A golden retreat An idyllic surrounding, Mother's gone mad From the ennui of parking in the same spot every day Suburbanites know there's no turning back They fell for the siren song of Compilations heavy in rotation at the mall Another Old Navy A few less trees, I guess it's not wrong to want Your own little piece of the American dream I'm driving a vehicle Bigger than my father's Oldsmobile At least 30 miles each way Passing by surveyors and cranes I wonder out loud: When will this traffic die down? If they would expand this road to 10 lanes Maybe I could get home Now I sit by the river But not in my quadrant, there's no river here There's no way to get away from here In a couple of years, there'll be More buildings a few miles from here Pushing out the trailer park beyond the reservation And, the freeway's collapsing A constant reminder of plans gone awry Speculators watching real estate investments going dry The sewers are full of disposable diapers As landfills appear, tucked up Neat against the driveway of the corporate farm