I don't know east texas from Louisiana.
And I don't know Alabama or where Atlanta lies tonight.
And Indianapolis.
Summers in park and recreation pools,
and carsick vacations in size eleven in "I'm going to heaven" shoes.
I don't know god;
I don't know anyone or if anything will be all right.
Like I don't know Billy Ocean from the ocean floor.
I don't own any albums, I don't know anything.
I don't go to college anymore.
I've got my hands on the one hand,
but I don't know where to put them.
But on the other hand,
I don't know if I'll talk my way out of this one tonight.