If you stop between two docks, you’ll drop down and drown
And even here, on desert sand, you cannot stand for long
So, we are always moving on, for greener ground 

We are, after all, the land of possibilities, still
Grizzled by the years after our great victories, our minds now muddled as an old man's
But we have strength somewhere deep, beneath the ground, and youth to be renewed
We just can't remember where we set it down

We are unsharpened now
By the lack of enemies to wrestle, 
So we wrestle ourselves
And we tear our shelters down

But dear God over the blue-black desert this morning, the light turned all to gold and orange and red       
And we are not dead
We, through this convulsion, this tortuous path to morning (so we pray) 
Will find the morning glories, which give new life
As the poet said: may this be the darkness of a womb, 
And not a tomb 

So, America, 
We Sing for Thee, 
Which is Us
Which is You
Which is Me 

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