Deep underneath the suburbs,
beneath the American dream,
a catacomb of secrets,
and not quite what it seems.
And late each dark and stale blue night,
each adult in the town,
they find a secret staircase,
and descend slowly down.
Down under the pavement and
then far beneath the lawns,
each man then travels down until
the hour is almost dawn.
they reach their cryptic meeting place,
and sit around a table.
they look without quite seeing,
and might not even be able.
they then discus each single event
that will occur that day,
then leave up to their little towns,
returning without delay.
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