Casey

Home of the brave sung through gritted teeth. A back trunk angel to a mother out of her mind, land of the free as seen on TV, the anthem language curdling on contact with the life it is supposed to describe. A sampled homily about owning up to mistakes threads through the song, the mistake itself never named and never going away.

One dream splits into two, fame for her and mere happiness for the other, and both get denied. Dreams rarely come true for people like me and you. The dream gets said one last time without its echoes, and still refused.