Your cracked country lips, I still wish to kiss, As to be under the strength of your skin. Your magnetic movements Still capture the minutes I'm in. But it grieves my heart, love, To see you tryin' to be a part of A world that just don't exist. It's all just a dream, babe, A vacuum, a scheme, babe, That sucks you into feelin' like this. –Bob Dylan, from "To Ramona"

America totally kicks ass. The strongest nation on earth. Nobody can kick our ass. Nobody can intimidate us, becuase we don't give a fuck.

“America Kicks Ass” - John S. Hall

Sundays too my father got up and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices? –"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden

Comes the morning When I can feel That there's nothing left to be concealed Moving on a scene surreal No, my heart will never Will never be far from here Sure as I am breathing Sure as I'm sad I'll keep this wisdom in my flesh I leave here believing more than I had And there's a reason I'll be A reason I'll be back As I walk The Hemisphere Got my wish To up and disappear I been wounded I been healed Now for landing I been Landing I been cleared Sure as I'm leaving Sure as I'm sad I'll keep this wisdom In my flesh I leave here believing More than I had This Love has got No Ceiling –Eddie Vedder

Well, if you're travelin' in the north country fair, Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline, Remember me to one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine. Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm, When the rivers freeze and summer ends, Please see if she's wearing a coat so warm, To keep her from the howlin' winds. Please see for me if her hair hangs long, If it rolls and flows all down her breast. Please see for me if her hair hangs long, That's the way I remember her best. I'm a-wonderin' if she remembers me at all. Many times I've often prayed In the darkness of my night, In the brightness of my day. So if you're travelin' in the north country fair, Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline, Remember me to one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine. –Bob Dylan