It's a short step from the diner to the highway,
It's a long haul from the mountains to the coast;
From the restless glance she flicked between the distance and the counter,
I'd say our laughter stirred a ghost.
Down the way, lights prickle at the edge of town,
As the cowboys gather, to watch the sun go down;
There's smoke and fire and laughter and hope for the ever-after
But I'd say that Destiny wears a frown.

America, come weep, for what's been lost and what's been stolen,
America, come weep, for all your pioneers of old;
For somewhere on the way, between dream and realisation,
I'd say you've gone and lost your soul.

With her elbows on the counter, and her eyes out on the highway,
The waitress in the diner watches the drivers come and go;
They all have destinations emblazoned on their faces,
Like the old heroes on horseback who made the horizon their home.
The evening news flickers from the TV in the corner,
Images of blood and death that'd make your stomach churn;
The waitress starts to wonder, as she polishes the glasses,
How a nation of refugees took to killing in their turn.

America, come weep, for what's been lost and what's been stolen ... etc.

It's a short step from the diner to the highway,
It's a long haul from the mountains to the coast;
From the restless glance she flicked between the distance and the counter,
I'd say our laughter stirred a ghost.

Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP]