I still live out past where the sidewalk ends, past all its lines and twists and many bends. Out here I live with all my wonderful friends, out past where the sidewalk ends. Out past the red bricks and those big smokestacks. I don't plan on ever, ever coming back. If you ask me why I'm here I'll say, "It depends. What's there beyond where your sidewalk ends?" I'll invite you to see where the flowers grow, to smell the peppermint winds, and to live life measured and slow. You don't need to be young to come to know life out past where the sidewalk ends.