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.