The Streets Of America             
             
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
             
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