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from Pilgrim Village by Tobin James Mueller |
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Oh... If the weight that once framed you and the darkened days are all left behind, then the mirror of your hidden hope will reflect on this new place and time. Working late every night, just to save what you can. Filing letters full of words unsaid, in American... Like a savior that renames, gives you courage to simply start again, there’s a genius to this crazy land that reflects upon my face and hands. I’ve come to America. I’ve come to America. I’ve come to America. I’ve come to America, America. Forge a new life. Forge a new life. Would I have learned? Would I have earned the same mind? Would I have burned the bridge between dreams and home had I not left in time? Would I have lost you had I stayed and lived a lie? Driven underground, every right every wrong, wouldn’t every passion die? What of my sons? And the sons of my sons? Would they be proud when the day is done? When the day is done? When the day is done? |
Come be free... Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back home. Can’t go back. |
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© 2004 Tobin James Mueller
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