Circa 1981?

Standing here on stage isn't my real thing,

With all the hassles and headaches it bring,

Not knowing who I'll see in a day or two,

Going for months without seeing you.

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I wanna have a 15-room house with a deck on the back.

I wanna have three kids, a dog, and a cat.

I wanna read my newspaper while the kids play.

I wanna have a block party and be on the PTA.

I wanna live on the outskirts of LA or maybe Philadelphia.

I wanna be the epitome of middle-class suburbia.

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And down in the basement would be my guitar and amp,

Collecting dust along with a dozen broken lamps,

And once every couple of years, I might play a chord

And then pack it up when I got really bored.

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I wanna have a lawn to mow and a garden to weed.

I wanna have a dispute over my neighbor's deed.

I wanna see the sun peek through my Venetian blinds.

I wanna willow, birth, elm, and some pine trees.

I wanna live on the outskirts of Houston or Atlanta.

I wanna be the epitome of middle-class suburbia.

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I wanna own two cars and an outboard motor boat.

I wanna eat chicken and feel the Schlitz roll down my throat.

I wanna have a picnic every Labor Day and play softball.

I wanna see dozens of shoes cluttering up my hall.

I wanna live in the country of Arkansas or Virginia.

I wanna be the epitome of middle-class suburbia.