Trip To Nebraska

I was on my way home,
The telephone lines,
Were my stream,
Was my dream,
Even a plastic foam.

The sun was always with me,
But then so is everyone,
The clouds they hide behind,
The things they keep in mind,
When things are just a little lost at sea.

I thought it would be easy,
Just like the other day,
When I lost my bayonet,
To the lady in grey,
When I didn't have anything to say.

A trip to Nebraska.

I wanted to leave you,
But you were always by the roadsides,
Waving back at me,
When I long to be,
What I wanted to leave.

And you told me to reason,
Of butterflies and prisms,
To make love of everything,
But I was thinking too much,
I was conscious of the fact,
That I've lost my touch.

What do you see from Hawaii,
Looking into the wooden box,
Of bombers and tanks,
Of leaders in ranks,
Of commercials in boxes too.

I wanted to be with you,
But then I got angry,
And I dropped the cynic off the hills,
And I was trying to make truce.

But you see what's wrong,
Of me trying to write a song,
Is the fact that I'm trying,
That I'm trying to belong.

End.