Exile at Home

America the Great knows what to do with the poor, the tired, the hungry
But what should it do about the heartbroken generation dotting the landscape?
We were promised so much and handed even more than we could ever hold.
We wanted to dance in the streets with joy; that was before we feared outside.
And did you ever stop to wonder that perhaps the why in sexy
Begs us to ponder how we come to trade in love and relationships and risks?
How do we even discern between the people and the monsters
After we've chased the all monsters away and taken up their roles?
It was not a brave new world that we have woken up to,
We woke up to cinders and smoke and our childlike dreams away at sea.

Someday the seas will claim the shores,
The forests forsake their borders,
 And the mountains will move east.
America the beautiful indeed.

Old Americana

We were in limbo that year, that 4th of July.
Young enough to swing on monkey bars,
Old enough to realize hearts break.
They bleed red, red, red white blue.

So let's wear these clothes,
I have my tie, tied with honest mistakes,
You have your shoes burning red across the wood.
Were these signs of the times? Signs of growing up?

Old enough to drink, not old enough to regret.
You were promised four unforgettable years
Designed to be enjoyed best when forgotten
With me still on the monkey bars, upsidedownrightsideup

I swung down and into the next part.
Next tune, next room, next scene repeat
Full skies, chances, and empty cars
Against crowded bars, faded dreams bound in scars.

Do you ever wake, wrapped in faded glory,
Residual warmth as you leave one room
And enter the next adjacent memory.
Morning rises, curtains fall, did you find your star?