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Desolate and without purpose |
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Radiating from so many septic sources |
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Forming the fabric of a wayward people |
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Disappearing as the vestiges of our past |
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Scratched like tartan into virgin soil |
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A substrate for progress and disarray |
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A spreading network of broken dreams |
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Searching for a thoroughfare to take us away |
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Just a little tale from the streets of America |
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Sparkled promises paved with pathos and hysteria |
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Trenchant, weary native sons, step back |
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Step back and see the damage done |
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Meander to the horizon, the streets of America |
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Black, tarred concrete, pine for me |
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Lying dormant for you and your country |
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Hardened surface, cracked within |
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Catch the sweat from off the chin |
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Of men and women, senior and child |
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Who look to you and your sterile miles |
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And in their stares is bald dismay |
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For what you fuckin' promised led them astray |
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Just another tale from the streets of America |
|
Sparkled promises paved with pathos and hysteria |
|
Trenchant, weary native sons, step back |
|
Step back and see the damage done |
|
Meander to the horizon, the streets of America |
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Hard-cracked, daunting, lifeless veins |
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False hope corridors to greener pastures is all that remains |
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Say a little prayer from the streets of America |
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Sparkled promises paved with pathos and hysteria |
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Trenchant, weary native sons, step back |
|
Step back and see the damage done |
|
Shoot straight into the horizon, the streets of America |
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Shoot straight into the horizon, the streets of America |
