desolate and without purpose
|
radiating from so many septic sources
|
forming the fabric of a wayward people
|
disappearing as the vestiges of our past
|
|
scratched like tartan into virgin soil
|
a substrate for progress and disarray
|
a spreading network of broken dreams
|
searching for a thoroughfare to take us away
|
|
just a little tale from the streets of America (say a little prayer)
|
sparkled promises paved with pathos and hysteria
|
trenchant, weary native sons
|
step back
|
and see the damage done
|
meander to the horizon (shoot straight to the horizon)
|
the streets of America
|
|
black, tarred concrete
|
pine for me
|
lying domant
|
for you and country
|
hardened surface
|
cracked within
|
catch the sweat
|
from off the chin
|
|
of men and women
|
senior and child
|
who look to you
|
and your sterile miles
|
and in their stares
|
is bald dismay
|
for what you promised
|
led them astray
|
|
hard-cracked, daunting, lifeless veins
|
false hope corridors to greener pastures is all that remains
|
|
-----------------
|
The Streets Of America
|
| Bad Religion |
