I walked once from battery to bay
Across red plains and orange deserts, devoid of moisture and dreams.
I breathed in dust particles of a thousand dead men
And saw three million more on Fifth Avenue.
I wet my feet with Lake Michigan and Florida orange juice
And looked at the sun through dirtied windows in anonymous suburbia.
I felt like was swimming through air too thick to breathe
Because a south-side, streetlight scientist told me
We're headed toward the inevitable heat death of the universe
And a punk-rock priest spun tales of a glittering world in the center of the sun.
I saw two thousand god-fearing men clutch each other in the dark
And a million eyes glint out of cracks in the concrete.
I found myself somewhere between the water and the golden gate
As a compact-fluorescent sun shone white and turned the world black.
I fell, and took America with me.