Flags hang high, but promises swing low
Throwing fists at flags, arms and all these heavy bags, sure it wears us down.
But its dark in the afternoon if you go to bed oh so alone, so lets
Wait it out.
Theres a rocking chair on the porch and a promise on a stick flying low so low under the window.
"forever onward, young man" or "were forever kid, just keep on sippin"
Ive been asked to please, oh god please, find the names of broken heroes in bathroom stalls
And memorize beaten down battle cries scrawled on the backs of jackets.
"yes," i told her i will write them down on my arms.
"here are five sticks of dynamite," she said. but only if you must."
Past the porch, theres a long road out towards the beach
And the waves are breaking out deep tonight.
I can see the thin ankles of boys falling over each other
Sprinting down the shore to be the first to feel a crash over their
I hear them with only waterpistols and watches to tell them when to come in.
I know you can drown in shallow water.
So we sit up, all afraid of another new morning in america,
Weary of spitting in the face of these badlands and swinging wildly until we eat dirt again.
But what if for now we save our spit, catch swears in our throats, and keep clean on the porch?
I say we keep fighting, always lead with our hearts, and sit this porch like guards all night armed with our drinks and songs
Because this night can keep on stretching if we never go to bed,
Cause were forever kid,
Or isnt that what they said?