If only I'd lived on Cidermill Court I wouldn't be such a fuck up! Kiwi Loop, maybe. Those guys know how to party. North Appletree? We'd see. South Appletree? Smells like pee. Starlight Road, fuck no. But Cidermill? Oh heavens yes. Oh Cidermill.
All I think about nowadays is bouncing balls off of a garage and melting on a blacktop driveway. If I'd lived on Cidermill I'd think about different things. I'd probably own a muscle car and drive it around and around. I'd only disturb six or seven houses. Round and round and round. Vroom. If only I lived on Cidermill Court I'd be driving stick, not civic.
"Grow the fuck up motherfucker!" The chorus shouts. Praise chorus? No pay, no raise. Peachstone ain't to place to call home. Tami Trail's got no houses for sale. "Grow the fuck up!" They repeat. If only I lived on Sesame Street.
It's too easy being me, everyone can see. I can write and write and write and never put up a fight. Except that's a lie. I fight myself all the time. On everyone else's time. It's my worst crime. I don't know where to go. Peachstone has no path of its own. Hedgewood and Starlight bookend the night.
"Grow the fuck up!" The chorus still says. I sigh. Okay.
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