And all the houses in the street have got a name
'Cos all the houses in the street they look the same
Same chimney pots, same little cars, same window panes
The neighbors call to tell you things that you should know
They say their lines, they drink their tea, and then they go
They tell your business in another Shangri-La
The gas bills and the water rates, and payments on the car
Too scared to think about how insecure you are
This could be heaven
Shallow spreads of ordered lawns
I like the illusion, illusion of privacy
The careful trees blending so perfectly
Bland planned idle luxury
A caviar of perfect dignity
Life in lovely allotted slots
A token nice, a nice constitution
