Norwich Bulletin Lyrics

Down Route 71 to the house with the peeling paint
Almost every day he would sit outside and wait
Staring endlessly at the cars as they drove by
Me on my way to work, as I'd often wonder why
I'd often wondered what had made him tick
Was he a nice guy?
Or was he a dick?
Was he an asshole, like my friends and I?
Did he have his license?
Did he ever drive?