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Robin Bacior
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I Hate The States
Late last night you looked me in the eyes and said it might be time to go back.
I knew right then that you meant, 'Goodbye darlin', I am going west.'
I cried right below my skin but held my face at rest.
The room fell quiet, the city became a little less.
Now you're going homeward,
hours far like you once were,
oh, I hate the States.
On the long walk home I swear I could hear all the night birds moan.
We sighed together, wondered who will we sing to when you've gone.
Sirens scream down the highway, we argue over who'll miss you more.
Now the buildings seem so dirty, the skyline less romantic than before.
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Because now you're going homeward,
hours far like you once were,
oh, I hate the States.
Lets make a map and draw out all the points we used to know by face.
We'll talk through cups on strings and stay tied in a strange sort of way.
Voices only elude the miles for so many days,
until you're looking at your geography and it's all been erased.
Because now you're going homeward,
hours far like you once were,
oh, I hate the States.
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