Gold Mine Gutted

It was Don Delillo, whiskey neat, and a blinking midnight clock
 Speakers on the TV stand, just a turntable to watch
 When the smoke came out our mouths on all those hooded sweatshirt walks
 We were a stroke of luck
 We were a gold mine, they gutted us
 And from the sidelines you see me run
 Until I'm out of breath
 Living the good life, I left for dead
 The sorrowful midwest
 Well, I did my best
 To keep my head
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 It was grass-stained jeans and incompletes
 And a girl from class to touch
 But you think about yourself too much
 And you ruin who you love
 Well, all these claims at consciousness
 My stray dog freedom
 Let's have a nice, clean cut
 Like a bag we buy and divvy up
 And from the sidelines I see you run
 Until you're out of breath
 And all those white lines that sped us up
 We hurry to our death
 Well, I lagged behind
 So you got ahead