I don't know east texas from Louisiana.
  And I don't know Alabama or where Atlanta lies tonight.
  And Indianapolis.
  Summers in park and recreation pools,
  and carsick vacations in size eleven in "I'm going to heaven" shoes.
  I don't know god;
  I don't know anyone or if anything will be all right.
  Like I don't know Billy Ocean from the ocean floor.
  I don't own any albums, I don't know anything.
  I don't go to college anymore.
  I've got my hands on the one hand,
  but I don't know where to put them.
  But on the other hand,
  I don't know if I'll talk my way out of this one tonight.