Americana

You looking for your Americana?

I got it for you, brother

Sister raised me twice

Once as a kid and once when I screwed up

And had to start over

Thirty years later

You want Americana?

This is your Americana

Whores and cupcake wars

Drugs and tug-of-wars

Picnics and teddy bears

And Civil War history

Just for fun

PBS and PBJ's

Pajamas on bananas

And gays and straights

I got caught in the 408

Wondering what my phone number is

So much stored, so much ignored

So much I don't need to know anymore

My sister raised me in a one bedroom apartment

On the west side of town

And sometimes when I wanted to feel fancy

I'd walk five blocks

To the heart of the city

And walk into nice restaurants

Sit around like I was waiting for a table

Or for my family to show up

And celebrate something with me

It's funny, really

How long they'll let you sit there

Before they ask you if anybody's coming

Is anybody coming?

I don't know, boss, you tell me

Say, tell me something

Where's my John Henry, huh?

Where's my Paul Bunyan?

Where's my Johnny Appleseed

Spreading the American Dream to me?

Where's my State of Liberty?

Did I delete her number from my phone?

I always get the hang of one thing

Just as they're inventing another

And one day I'm going to get sick of getting the hang of things

And once you reach that day

You've given up studying

Americana

But for now, I'm still in it

I'm still in Americana

Not America, you see

America's a good place

A nice place

With farms and chickens

Pet kittens and ironic slogans

Irony is something

I could never afford

America is a place

I could never afford to live

Americans people

I just can't forgive

But Americana is something

I can be a part of

A culture, a question

A quest I'm on

Something that flows

Through my dirty blood

A flag and some stripes

Look pretty nice

But the stars are what

Helped me bring back twice

My sister didn't teach me about Washington and Lincoln

But about war and rights

And what it means

To put up a good fight

She taught me to say Americana

Like it's a word Americans can't say

Twenty dollar magazines

That come out twice a year

Rushmore and L.A.

Burritos and beer

Fruitcakes and nutjobs

And unwarranted cheer

I'm not sure what I'm doing

I'm not sure why I'm here

I fall asleep on a couch

Looking out past a fire escape

Onto a city

I love and fear

And think about leaving

Almost as much

As I think about dying here

This is my Americana

This is where I belong

This is why I'm broke

And this is why I'm strong

Here's where I learned

To play ball and tell time

To steal and to shout

To write and to rhyme

And sometimes I work it

And sometimes I quit

But I'm still American

I'm still legit

And no matter what my license says

Or where I happen to be

A resident

It doesn't matter how little I have

Because I know deep down

I'm an Americana President