I'll See You in the States
But you won't know me, no,
America my eyes are painted green
like emeralds they glisten
forty-seven times and I'm counting
because its all you've left me,
counting backwards the days until
I can't remember how the sun rose
or how the grasses grew inland
because I'm too old for it; America
you think we're separated but you don't know
how separated we can be, we can
be canyons and oceans between
if you want, and it's true
I think you've forgotten me,
after all, you never call
me when I expect you to,
and when you do you always say
you have cold feet; america, don't you remember
the afternoons I spent swallowing asphault
and digesting taxi's because you asked me to?
Our fathers told us to mind the river
but you paid no head so look,
I'm over the shoulder of you reaching
out, but no, there is no coming back.
I'll see you in the states
but not in the ones you expect.
I'll see you when things grow hard, when
snow falls and your nose runs
and in the morning the engine
won't turn over; when it rains
and you outstretch your arms
and look upwards and feel the
droplets land on your face; when you cry: I will see you then
and wonder why you keep
making all the same mistakes.
See, we are beautiful together, you
with your girth and ill manners,
and me with a nose too short
and beard that doesn't grow in right
but now it's don't and we are ugly,
terribly, more so than I'd like to believe
and so I change the contours
of my chin line and trim my hair
until I am no longer the same and don't
turn with the days as you're accustomed to
but rather rest within the sun
and rise with the moon
until you learn exactly what you did in youth
until you realize as I have:
I was never here all along.
But you won't know me, no,
America my eyes are painted green
like emeralds they glisten
forty-seven times and I'm counting
because its all you've left me,
counting backwards the days until
I can't remember how the sun rose
or how the grasses grew inland
because I'm too old for it; America
you think we're separated but you don't know
how separated we can be, we can
be canyons and oceans between
if you want, and it's true
I think you've forgotten me,
after all, you never call
me when I expect you to,
and when you do you always say
you have cold feet; america, don't you remember
the afternoons I spent swallowing asphault
and digesting taxi's because you asked me to?
Our fathers told us to mind the river
but you paid no head so look,
I'm over the shoulder of you reaching
out, but no, there is no coming back.
I'll see you in the states
but not in the ones you expect.
I'll see you when things grow hard, when
snow falls and your nose runs
and in the morning the engine
won't turn over; when it rains
and you outstretch your arms
and look upwards and feel the
droplets land on your face; when you cry: I will see you then
and wonder why you keep
making all the same mistakes.
See, we are beautiful together, you
with your girth and ill manners,
and me with a nose too short
and beard that doesn't grow in right
but now it's don't and we are ugly,
terribly, more so than I'd like to believe
and so I change the contours
of my chin line and trim my hair
until I am no longer the same and don't
turn with the days as you're accustomed to
but rather rest within the sun
and rise with the moon
until you learn exactly what you did in youth
until you realize as I have:
I was never here all along.
