Southern United States
I had a dream I was standing beneath the Memphis moon
With William Blake painting and Crosby crooning
And his father was a sailor
Who left his mother young, and so she dressed him the same
He took after his father, without the last name
A Welshman from Tennessee
Who spoke with an accent that resembled no other
Cut from the cloth, he showed me his daughter
And Lilly was a Rose
Married into money but it only changed her clothes
With her eyes half closed and her hands arisen
She leaned into talk and I leaned in to listen
She said those political songs they’re worth missing

I awoke at the wheel
With the wind, road and radio fluttering in my ears
I was following my heart like I hadn’t for years
I put on Lou Reed’s Berlin
I had a friend once that asked me, “Who needs Berlin?”
“Well,” I said, “I guess it depends on the state that you’re in.”
I was stopped at the border
I don’t know what they thought I had but by the end, I’d had it
Low Texas drawl coming over the static
I looked up at the bristling stars and they looked so sad it was the
Southern United States