Horizon line spawns vertical

Depending on the longitude and latitude

Of good ol' route 52.

You know what that means to me,

A crazy summer, half spent in a trailer

Over the border of Davidson county and

The other half in a car or a Motel 6.

I don't miss you.

I miss all you stood for.

It was as if I mentally regressed

To 16 again, when you came around.

Missed my time to commit a crime

Before it was sealed up into juvenile records.

Only guilty of too much desire to waste

Too many of my precious moments with you,

And a bit more innocence than what was safe.

Knowing the way to your house,

Head North on 52 past University Parkway.

I can't get geography out of my mind,

Instead of only what my conscience on my shoulder

Tells me to do,

Kiss your cocky car like country songs. Goodbye

Or, to say hello with a baseball bat.

Only now you live in cigarette city with your cheatin' heart.

Was she as good as you thought?

I'm sure her husband didn't mind, like I did.

Next time you compare yourself with the wailing wind,

Just blow away.

I don't miss what you stood for.

I don't miss you.

I miss the fact that your friend over there was cuter

And the opportunity to show you what was meant

By the scribbling of the roads;

The satisfaction of vengeful adultery.

52 lies never lighted nearly lost in the scramble

To find lacy lingerie lying to my face.