More of Us

(It’s hard to put into words, that which exists in veins, hard to distill that which has exploded into your every cell, it’s hard to remember how full your cup when it flowed after it has left you bled dry. America you great unfinished symphony, do you remember a time when we believed in your song, when we believed we could keep writing it? Every day crumbles around us now. The revolution returns. If a song can break your heart only to build it back up again, don’t you think we have a chance, after all?)