Letters from the Lunar Outpost

Envy, to which the ignoble mind's a slave, Is emulation in the learned or brave.
- Pope, English Poet, Critic, and Translator (1688-1744)

Out on the plains there’s nowhere to go
Unless you wanna see a picture show
The football game is the place to be
The quarterback has an injured knee
Another night we’re out on the plains
The crickets resonate inside my brain
As I lie drunk in a pickup truck
I only wish these chicks would fuck

I cruise down Main Street
Wind blows in my hair
We cruise down Main Street
Dust flies in the air

We all got drunk and looked for some fun . . .
(Yes, we did.)

We all got drunk and looked for some fun
And so we headed for the teen nightclub
They kicked us out and they beat us up
So we went out to a wild party
Jocks drink beer and sit by the keg
There sits the hero with the broken leg
I saw a chick with a punk hairstyle
These teens so hip I can only smile

I cruise down Main Street
Wind blows in my hair
We cruise down Main Street
The donut shop is there

( . . . interlude)

I cruise down Main Street . . .

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Team of Rivals
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Doris Kearns Goodwin