[i forget the actual "title" of this song. you guys did two takes. it's really jangly. on one take, doug's chorus pedal is on overtime. if this doesn't help, i'll provide more info tomorrow.] look at all the red convertibles streaming out of the city to the place where they call home (but they'll be back tomorrow) when they're gone the place seems quieter and a bit more pretty more open space for me to roam (precious moments borrowed [from them]) i don't mind i own a parking lot when it's full i'm thankful for what i've got look at all the fat suburbanites with white shirts and ugly ties all with spots from lunches past (and meals from catered weddings) dripping pools of sweat from sunlit parks and the grass on which i lie dodging each sharp glance i cast (but you know where i'm heading) i don't mind i'm a dry cleaner a bit more mustard for your weiner [insert chorus about it being "My City" or some BS] [more lyrics after this generates approval or rejection, or if i get The Urge]