’tis of thee

they caught the last poor man
on a poor man’s vacation
they cuffed him and confiscated his stuff
they dragged his black ass down to the station
and said, ok, the streets are safe now
all your pretty white children can come out and see spot run
and they came out of their houses
and they looked around
but they didn’t see no one

my country ’tis of thee
to take swings at each other on the talkshow tv
why don’t you just go ahead and turn off the sun
cuz we’ll never live long enough
to undo everything they’ve done to you
undo everything they’ve done to you

above 96th street
they’re handing out smallpox blankets so people don’t freeze
the old dogs have got a new trick
it’s called criminalize the symptoms
while you spread the disease
and i hold on hard to something
between my teeth when i’m sleeping
i wake up and my jaw aches
and the earth is full of earthquakes

my country ’tis of thee
to take shots at each other on the primetime tv
why don’t you just go ahead and turn off the sun
cuz we’ll never live long enough
to undo everything they’ve done to you
undo everything they’ve done to you

they caught the last poor man
flying away in a shiny red cape
they took him down to the station
and they said, boy, you should’ve known better
than to try to escape
i ran away with the circus
cuz there’s still some honest work left for bearded ladies but
its not the same going town to town
since they put everyone in jail
except the cleavers and the brady’s

my country ’tis of thee
to take swings at each other on the talkshow tv
why don’t you just go ahead and turn off the sun
cuz we’ll never live long enough
to undo everything they’ve done to you
undo everything they’ve done to you

second intermission, anticipation;
you know the third act-
small talk drops out of the play.

you’re standing in the lobby,
tightening your tourniquet,
waiting for it
waiting for it.

and the bell sounds,
and the lights flash.
there’s all these questions millin’ around,
there’s no time to ask.

no bliss for little ‘miss leading’
she’s learning about bleeding-
but what is love if not exquisite?
our only saving grace; or is it?
and somewhere in your iris
the reflection of my surprise is
stroll past every last ‘do not enter’
and touch me in my epicenter.

the bell sounds,
and the lights flash.
there’s all these questions millin’ around,
there’s no time to ask.

i’m always trying to get there;
i never really get there
(to that quiet place where i accept myself).

instead, i’m deep inside some high school-
locker room, no clothing-
popping zits of my self-loathing
under flourescent lights.

and the bell sounds,
and the lights flash.
and there’s all these questions millin’ around,
they’re too ashamed to ask.

second intermission, anticipation-
you know the third act,
small talk drops out of the play.

you’re standing in the lobby,
tightening your tourniquet,
waiting for it.
waiting for it.

squint your eyes and look closer
i’m not between you and your ambition
i am a poster girl with no poster
i am thirty-two flavors and then some
and i’m beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head
cuz someday you’re going to get hungry
and eat most of the words you just said

both my parents taught me about good will
and i have done well by their names
just the kindness i’ve lavished on strangers
is more than i can explain
still there’s many
who’ve turned out their porch lights
just so i would think they were not home
and hid in the dark of their windows
til i’d passed and left them alone

and god help you if you are an ugly girl
‘course too pretty is also your doom
cuz everyone harbors a secret hatred
for the prettiest girl in the room
and god help you if you are a phoenix
and you dare to rise up from the ash
a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
while you are just flying past

i never tried to give my life meaning
by demeaning you
and i would like to state for the record
i did everything that i could do
i’m not saying that i’m a saint
i just don’t want to live that way
no, i will never be a saint
but i will always say

squint your eyes and look closer
i’m not between you and your ambition
i am a poster girl with no poster
i am thirty-two flavors and then some
and i’m beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head
cuz someday you might find you’re starving
and eating all of the words you said

you gotta have the right tools
for every job
so i invite myself in
through a hole in the fence
i am tripping through the junkyard
scanning over the piles
the thin cats raise their skin in defense
i know he’s watching me
i can see him through the cracks
his eyes are small and shy on my back
he says his name is jason
he lives in the last trailer on the right
and he’ll be seven
on the fourth of july

only the people who live here
know the name of this place
my path through iowa would be
hard to trace
all the adults in this town
try not to frown
when i walk by
but jason smiled at me
he met my eye

he don’t ask me
where i’m from
or why i came
here alone
we all go looking for paradise
then we go back home
we cut out the small talk
go right to the way things are
he showed me his squirrel skull
i told him i locked myself out of my car

so there goes the only friend
i have in iowa
his hand flapping behind him
waving good-bye
his name is jason
he lives in the last trailer on the right
and he’ll be seven

78% h2o

when the joy had left your body
and you were locked into your own thoughts
you used to love to sit by the water
and watch it lapping on the rocks
and every time you put your feet in
you cry out and you pray
but its all downhill from here, baby
so naturally, i can’t stay

first you roll your eyes to heaven
say you’ve never had love so divine
but it will go from more than ever
to not enough in no time

you will push and
you will push until
you push me away
i hear you cry out for your water
i know you’ll curse it someday

i guess for me there’s been few
who’ve walked up smiling and drawn a line
between so far and from now on
yes a big glowing life time

and i’ve been disappointed
i’ve been heart-broken
i too have loved from afar
but we are 78% water
even our pumping hearts