AP Macroeconomics - American Novel Lyrics

And the next great American Novel will be written by a man with no party lines
Paralegal out of middle America, uses drugs in his downtime
Flew out of Tacoma 'cos there's no money here, the well's been dry for a couple of years
Might as well live where the murder is near and the market's a steal

And by nature of man I'll never know why he lives on the outside
He'll put into words what he can put in line when nothing fits it just right
With a string of divorces and some sense left to spend he flies out west 'til a grapevine catches neck and cleans his head
His kids finesse his dying bread, some parting words, he gasps for breath
Wrap it in gold and sell the press
First in the charts, it's New York's best
Voice of a time, untimely death