America, American. An image here, a mirrored trend.
A pal-o-mine once told me truth. He said it bold, he showed me proof.
He asked me why I like to live. What made me tick, what made me give.
He showed me media, and tv too. He showed me clothes, the ones on you.
He asked about my favorite things. The ones I buy, the ones I bring.
We gathered all and in a pile, we placed my life and stared a while.
And all this stuff I knew was truth, that piled to the ceiling roof.
I called these things my prized possessions. They made me smile. They gave me presence.
Identified the man I am, was on the floor now in his hands.
Then as he lit a match and looked, I stared at him my hands they shook.
"I thought my land was what I make it. These things I gathered for my taking."
He looked at me, a smile cracked. "America to you", he laughed.
Now off he went in hopes I learn. A tiny spark, a fire burned.
I heard it sizzle, pop and crackle. But when he walked, the sound of shackles.
Not looking back, I heard him say, "Thats the sound of us men, working on our change."
As we slowly grow, we learn it's not just about giving thanks for our freedom, but how we use it.
-Rob
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