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David Francey
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American Blues
Turn on the TV and it's always the same
It's just those losers and winners in some ultimate game
And there's no point playing if you're not gonna win
'Cause winning's a sacrament and losing's a sin
And it wears me down to the soles of my shoes
And I'm feeling so tired
And I'm wasted and wired
And I've got the American blues
And the mountains' majesty and the fruited plain
They're all just waving goodbye like amber fields of grain
Profit and loss is the line in the sand
A dog under the table
Teeth firmly sunk in hand
Between a rock and a hard place
Well there's nothing to choose
And I'm feeling so tired
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And I'm wasted and wired
And I've got the American blues
We're as different from them as day and night
It's as plain as the nose on your face
And we run in the shadow of the power and the might
Of them that's running the human race
They rule their own, keep them close to the bone
In an isolation of fear
Under the heel, while they make the deals
The false prophets and profiteers
'Cause the world's a sound bite on the six o'clock new
And I'm feeling so tired
And I'm wasted and wired
And I've got the American blues
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