If I were to shave off this crazy beard,
Which I am not planning to do,
You'd never notice me as I passed.
I'm wearing suburban blue.
You'd also be blind to the car I'm driving.
It's silver, like all of the rest
On streets and driveways
Here in the suburbs,
Where people like that color best.
In restaurants, the diners demand what's familiar,
Not scallops or lamb. They want beef.
The sight of a steak and a big baked potato
Fills them with joy and relief,
And that's all they want
Out of life in the suburbs:
No challenges, nothing that's strange.
They want to wear blue and eat steak,
And be certain that their lives
Aren't going to change.