Long time gone

Dixie Chicks - Long Time Gone

I was told.

Return to my words.

You want them?

You sure?

You want to know America.  Don't drive on the Interstate.  Limited views, stops built for the flow.  Always the pieces of communal knowledge.  The McDonald.  El Rey du burgesa.  In seeing the sights you see nothing.  Blanche banal.  Take a turn.

To the Farmer to Market.  You know it.  Might be a little longer.  But you will see.  The greased stained pump fuel handle.  The Stuckeys.  Hot Biscuit.  Houses, so ramshackle you wonder how they continue to stand.  This my friend, is America.  Not the houses in the city, running from $350- to who knows what. Downtown square shows the brief dream of prosperity that hit in the 50s, to be replaced by vacant storefronts by now.  So different... yet so alike.  Wheels press on.

Don't worry about yourself.  You won't get invited in.  Long time gone.

Don't worry about you.  You have a covered front porch.  Oh sorry.  You don't.  Don't want any reminder that you are part of a community.  Or that you belong to others.  Go to churches so large that your own little cell group is enough to satisfy.  Sorry that I reminded.

We are more than ourselves.

Cloistered.  Stuffed into our simple bungalows.  Stiffed into our little pieces of earth.  Neighbors little next to nothing, unless they are family.  But how often does that happen?  Maybe daddy invested in something that allowed you the privilege.  Like some Steel Worker that sacrificed so... so much.  His sweat would earn the redemption of the next generation. 

They got money but they don't have cash.