Gabriel Kahane - To Be American lyrics
[Gabriel Kahane - To Be American lyrics]
To be American again
Teenaged and certain of innocence
Six lanes of Western caravan
Burn fuel to speed up the renaissance
Before the trench coats
And the roped-off rooms
The shell-shocked mothers
And the TV crews
Foreclosing a grand, old dream
Black motorcade running on empty
Big box and a Ponzi scheme
Drain everything, land of the plenty
In high school, I sang in the choir
With all the Mormons from Rohnert Park
Now all their houses are on fire
Strangе glow of oxblood in the dark
I think we all meant wеll
Or so I thought
That season
Privilege was a parking spot
Foreclosing a grand, old dream
Black motorcade running on empty
Big box and a Ponzi scheme
Drain everything, land of the plenty
If Reconstruction and the War
Seemed distant back in eleventh grade
How quaint our simple lives before
Seem now in face of the coming days
Foreclosing a grand, old dream
Black motorcade running on empty
Big box and a Ponzi scheme
Drain everything, land of the plenty
Our furniture's on the street
In every church, last rites are spoken
One criminal’s soft defeat
Can't change the fact that we're broken
Teenaged and certain of innocence
Six lanes of Western caravan
Burn fuel to speed up the renaissance
Before the trench coats
And the roped-off rooms
The shell-shocked mothers
And the TV crews
Foreclosing a grand, old dream
Black motorcade running on empty
Big box and a Ponzi scheme
Drain everything, land of the plenty
In high school, I sang in the choir
With all the Mormons from Rohnert Park
Now all their houses are on fire
Strangе glow of oxblood in the dark
I think we all meant wеll
Or so I thought
That season
Privilege was a parking spot
Foreclosing a grand, old dream
Black motorcade running on empty
Big box and a Ponzi scheme
Drain everything, land of the plenty
If Reconstruction and the War
Seemed distant back in eleventh grade
How quaint our simple lives before
Seem now in face of the coming days
Foreclosing a grand, old dream
Black motorcade running on empty
Big box and a Ponzi scheme
Drain everything, land of the plenty
Our furniture's on the street
In every church, last rites are spoken
One criminal’s soft defeat
Can't change the fact that we're broken