Then down to New Orleans
Nothing there is free
Could live out on the west coast
And get swallowed by the sea.

Chorus
I feel like I’m stuck
In no man’s land.

Out in the Midwest
Flyover zone
They don’t much welcome strangers
But they do leave you alone

And out on the east coast
I’ll take a harbor bar
Don’t want to join that race for money
Because I wouldn’t get that far.

You can wait for Christmas
You can pray for rain
You could go off with the circus
You could hop a train

Every place looks different
Everybody’s the same
You’re always on the outside
And nobody is to blame.

Final Chorus
Oh I feel like I’m stuck in
No man’s land
And I find myself going back
To where I began.

©2023 Craig Hansen