When I used to head out West
|
I’d dress up to look my best
|
And then somewhere in the air
|
I would feel a little better
|
And when I’d reach the ground
|
I’d turned into someone else
|
And I walked out in the sun
|
Someone new
|
Oh, America, my friend
|
There’s a sickness in your head
|
And it’s eating you alive
|
And you just ain’t getting better
|
I’d like to love you more
|
But I don’t know you any more
|
Now you look lik something wrong
|
Something new
|
And th writing on the wall
|
Is saying: «Where is America?»
|
And the bodies on the floor
|
Are singing: «Where is America?»
|
And the pilot looks straight down
|
And says: «I don’t know where to land
|
I’ve flown this way a thousand times before
|
But I just don’t recognize things anymore.»
|
All around the world
|
If you dig into the sand
|
You can find the shattered statues
|
Of men who came before you
|
Who used to have it all
|
And believed they could not fall
|
Then gave away to something else
|
Something new
|
Oh, America, my friend
|
I’d like to think we’ll meet again
|
On some sunlit afternoon
|
When your sickness is behind you
|
We hope you see it’s true
|
That it isn’t us, it’s you
|
It was time you had to know
|
'Cause we see where this will go
|
Where this goes
|
Where this goes
|
The wolves will one day sing on Broadway:
|
«Who was America?»
|
The herds will thunder down your freeways:
|
«Who was America?»
|
And the faces on the mountain
|
Will be shadows from before
|
Forgotten men from some time long ago
|
Who couldn’t see which way the sands would blow
|
A wolf will one day sing on Broadway:
|
«I am America»
|
The herds will thunder down the freeways:
|
«Across America»
|
And the faces on the mountain
|
Will be cities for the birds
|
Forgotten men from some time long ago
|
Who couldn’t see which way the sands would blow
|
Forgotten men from some time long ago
|
Who couldn’t see which way the sands would blow
|
(A wolf will one day sing on Broadway…)
|
(A wolf will one day sing on Broadway…)
|
(A wolf will one day sing on Broadway…) |