Another New Jersey night raid
Through the hills of melancholy malls
Outside the realm of American norms
Home to the still dreaming tribes
In a concrete dowry
Her gift is bestowed
Upon the Prince of travel
Still the mystery begs to unravel
Where is your great continental heart?
That once pumped with Springsteen blood
Now a stent is laid that I may pass
Once again trudging through your mass
What if there were kings or a queen here
Ruling over this domain
Giving us the loving care
We can’t provide for ourselves
Because we are but simple peasants
Not accustomed to this way
All but suffering just to stay awake
In this American dream
Let the horns sound for the regal
Glory to the queen mother
She loves us without scorn
Feeds us from her pearly hand
We are but humble stewards of the land
Don’t foresake us our wayward desire
To have what you have
To steal it away, forever hide it
In the precious places of our hearts
This pernicious lust may drive us down
To bite the sweet and gracious hand
That gives us love from distant towers
Our beloved sacred gem and flower
We promise we will learn to live
Within the generosity you give
Even though our dark desire
May conspire.
