Great American Novel
Music: Lyndon Heart
Lyrics: Salome Strangelove

She’s a Tennesee Williams kind of woman
Years past her prime
Nickel short of a dime
And everywhere around her
The world fills with roses and desperation
Paper lanterns mask the naked lights
But they don’t hide anything anymore

And if idealists are only measured by innocence
It should easy to adore her
And if our memory is all she represents
It should be easy to ignore her
But she bleeds upon the books and pages
She is conscience; she assuages

He’s a Henry Miller kind of man
Surreal and obscene
Livin’ well past his means
And everywhere around him
The world fills with fear and condemnation
Taboo verses catalog the pain
But they don’t shock anyone anymore

And if idealists are only measured by malcontent
It should easy to adore him
And if our enmity is all he represents
It should be easy to ignore him
But he screams upon the books and pages
He is passion, so he rages

This land is my land
This land is your land
And we are
Whitmans upon the rooftops
Scarletts in defeat
Gatsbys racing in the streets
Give me your tired, your poor
Yearning to breathe free
Send those tempest-tost to me

Tennesee Williams kind of women
Henry Miller kind of men
Living, dying
Sword and pen