The Reckoning
——————-
America
I am redeeming all my tickets you hold
In your Pawnshop of my soul.
The ticket of all the Indians and Japs and Nazis I killed
In the backyards of my boyhood.
The ticket of the church service on the day
JFK had his head blown open and
Was sainted on the spot.
The ticket of Kent State
And
The ticket of Jonestown
The ticket of Nine Eleven.
The ticket of the National Debt you
Tell me I personally owe.
The ticket of the innocence you said I lost
That you never had any claim to
In the first place.
The ticket of the holy materialism;
Coin, Scratch, Moolah, Franklins, Hamiltons and G’s
The Big Greed.
The tickets of addiction
Cigarettes and credit and alcohol, television,
Advertising, the stuff I
Never needed. O yeah,
You hooked me alright, America.
The Presidential tickets,
The tickets of the Bosses
And the Bankers and the CEO’s
All, all of them.
The tickets to the ones I love and loved and
The Worlds I love and loved, those tickets you
Gave me in return for putting all hope and dreams
Behind your counter.
America, you lied. And I was too dumb
And too young to know you didn’t own my soul,
And accepted the tickets in trust of your
Promise that of course I could redeem them
Someday.
America, you lied
And you still lie,
Only bigger, more arrogant.
I have redeemed all my tickets you held
Your glass cases stand open and barren
Your locks are broken
Your shelves are empty
Your counters are bare
Your wage-slaves are quitting
The weeds are shattering your blacktop
Even the Crows avoid your bones
© Salskov Iversen 2012
The Reckoning
——————-
America
I am redeeming all my tickets you hold
In your Pawnshop of my soul.
The ticket of all the Indians and Japs and Nazis I killed
In the backyards of my boyhood.
The ticket of the church service on the day
JFK had his head blown open and
Was sainted on the spot.
The ticket of Kent State
And
The ticket of Jonestown
And
The ticket of Nine Eleven.
The ticket of the National Debt you
Tell me I personally owe.
The ticket of the innocence you said I lost
That you never had any claim to
In the first place.
America
I am redeeming all my tickets you hold
In your Pawnshop of my soul.
The ticket of the holy materialism;
Coin, Scratch, Moolah, Franklins, Hamiltons and G’s
The Big Greed.
The tickets of addiction
Cigarettes and credit and alcohol, television,
Advertising, the stuff I
Never needed. O yeah,
You hooked me alright, America.
The Presidential tickets,
The tickets of the Bosses
And the Bankers and the CEO’s
All, all of them.
The tickets to the ones I love and loved and
The Worlds I love and loved, those tickets you
Gave me in return for putting all hope and dreams
Behind your counter.
America
I am redeeming all my tickets you hold
In your Pawnshop of my soul.
America, you lied. And I was too dumb
And too young to know you didn’t own my soul,
And accepted the tickets in trust of your
Promise that of course I could redeem them
Someday.
America, you lied
And you still lie,
Only bigger, more arrogant.
America
I have redeemed all my tickets you held
In your Pawnshop of my soul.
Your glass cases stand open and barren
Your locks are broken
Your shelves are empty
Your counters are bare
Your wage-slaves are quitting
The weeds are shattering your blacktop
Even the Crows avoid your bones
——————-
© Salskov Iversen 2012