The Great American Novel
The Great American Novel
Music: Lyndon Heart
Lyrics: Salome Strangelove
She’s a Tennesee Williams kinda woman
Years past her prime
Nickel short of a dime
And everywhere around her
The world reeks of roses and desperation
Paper lanterns mask the naked lights
But they don’t hide anything anymore
And if idealists are only measured by innocence
It should easy to adore her
And if our vanity is all she represents
It should be easy to ignore her
But she bleeds upon the books and pages
She is conscious; she assuages
He’s a Henry Miller kinda man
Surreal and obscene
Livin’ well past his means
And everywhere around him
The world speaks of fear and condemnation
Taboo verses catalog the pain
But they don’t shock anyone anymore
And if idealists are only measured by malcontent
It should easy to adore him
And if our enmity is all he represents
It should be easy to ignore him
But he screams upon the books and pages
He is passion, so he rages
This land is my land
This land is your land
And we are
Whitmans upon the rooftops
Scarletts in defeat
Gatsbys racing in the streets
Give me your tired, your poor
Yearning to breathe free
Send these tempest-tost to me
Tennesee Williams kinda women
Henry Miller kinda men
Living, dying
Sword and pen