Soon In Tents

All you poems and the Freedom Suite
And comment cards cannot delete
Broken bikes and cold, bare feet
America, surrender
But to honest plights
Or tennis whites
Or parking-space posses
That will wrong all rights?
Who took my wallet and my sleepless nights?
I can never remember
In some towns you must respect the water
And the shade
Part rust and part disturbing daughter
Pushes you away
Stay away
There's dust and leaks and coincidence
Tenements in Billings, and in Butte
Soon in tents
Call the janitor and raise the rents
There's camping in December
Still Astrud aspires
To blight the liars
Sometimes a simple voice can douse the hottest fires
A nascent tune will make them all retire
America, surrender