Middle American Nirvana

Middle American Nirvana                                     December 18, 2006

His name is Joe, and he's plain as plain can be.
It's Friday night, he's playing poker with the gang.
Saturday come, and he's cheering on his alma mater,
And on Sunday, he watches NFL warriors on TV.

My lonely eyes look in awe at how he achieved the averages.
He's you and me and everybody from sea to shining sea.
He's the every man we've ever striven throughout our lives to be.
Good ol' Joe drives his Chevrolet in his Levi's and boots.
He's achieved his dream of the Middle American Nirvana.
He's everything you and I have ever wanted to be.

Now good ol' Joe, that ol' soul, has got a heart
A mile wide, you could drive a Mack truck through his veins,
And if you know that same ol' song you hum to on the radio,
Well so does Joe, because he's just like you and me.

Look in the mirror and what will you see
But good ol' Joe looking back at you and me,
Wearing that tight sweatshirt, beer belly pooching out.
His ego is only a spec of sand in comparison to the rest of him,
Yet his faith in God and country makes him a giant among men.
Good ol' Joe, he's a spitting image of you and of me.

He lives his life so normally,
But his existence is a fantasy to you and me,
Scripted in stories by the late Hector St. John de Crevecouer.
Joe is a Smith and is pictured in his house,
Two car garage and farm full of cows,
Living the Middle American Nirvana of which we can only dream.