There were so many problems
In the way the things used to be
The smoke filled rooms with the bleeding
Abuse of our tattered, angel-worn women  

What was it these men were chasing?
The high horned high tailer's of the road
Paved in mysterious majesty that brought
Jovial misery and life from every black tire streak

Responsibility thrown to the way-side
No war on worth fighting for, draft cards
Burned and piled up as high as everyone
Else was - miser's piling up for the aftermath

Love written under a new pseudonym
With red ink on black paper
Time taking however long it wants
A blank smile on the face of every broken tax-payer

America - you bleed me like a cow to slaughter
I break my bones in battle over you,
Yet you send me the bill in a 2 cent envelope
Do you see why I must flee to be free from you?

I watch from afar atop hills you have never visited
The grass here reminds me of your smell
The sun rubs up against my skin giving the same warmth you did
I would be lying if I were to say I didn't miss you

This is not a letter of me coming back
This is not a letter of wishing you luck
This is not a letter of longing for what once was
This is only a letter to my homeland

A place I lived

A place I love

I place I still have hope for