(NEW FULL BAND VERSION) This is a song that is, at heart, about living in northern New Jersey, in and arround the suburban sprawl, driving through the Medowlands... Its an anthem to a home that we distance ourselves from yet feel is a part of us.

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I got into listening to some Wrens, about the same time that I was settling into life at college, away from Jersey and all that I love and hate of it... Driving home from Chris' house one night, my girlfriend (who's from the South) commented that the sprawl of the builtup medowlands was ugly, saying that it looked as though all the stars had gotten tired and had fallen to the ground. And I found myself defending the beauty of the radio antennae, with their intricate patterns of red blinking lights across the Medowlands...
That evloved into this.

Driving by the stars that've fallen to the earth
They shine just bright enough to show us what is left here
in the land where we keep shooting for a heaven that we cannot see.

We take our cues from the radio antenna
You know they must be trying to talk to somebody.

And so we live here, in this burnt out shell of the American dream.
You know the storybooks that taught us how to love were so much more real than this.

We take our cues from the radio antenna
You know they must be trying to talk to somebody.

And so we're driving alongside the stars on a Turnpike night.
Forgetting to forget our troubles is liberating.

We take our cues from the radio antenna
You know they must be trying to talk to somebody.

New York City lights our faces just like the moon.
And its always been just one small step, across tracks, across rivers,
and we've been trying, and we've been trying.

We take our cues from the radio antenna
You know they must be trying to talk to somebody.
We take our cues from the radio antenna
There must be someone out there, someone that they're talking to.