An American ballad
the day is warm
the coffeehouse is full
today we live our lives
fully automatic
a dozen preschoolers
a retired couple in the park
murmuring prayers now
fully automatic
the growl of airplanes
whiteline interstate
hoping to spend more time
fully automatic
smoke without fire
a heaviness in the limbs
words we learned as children
fully automatic
the disorientation returns
mood-altering routine
your advertising choices recorded
fully automatic
brass clinks on tiles
bugles and bagpipes
alone in intensive
fully automatic
it happens again
the same, but different
it happens again
fully automatic