Rusted Machines

Torn between nurture’s love and nature’s surround.

The wind pulls me as it blows trees,

I am dirty with Western blood.

Father wandered as poets wrote,

can’t blame him for bones from the East.

Torn between nurture’s love and nature’s surround.

Open coast roads and low sea shrubs

unheard calls to manifest destiny.

I am dirty with Western blood.

Mother gave a heart like the world,

she knew home must be somewhere between.

Torn between nurture’s love and nature’s surround.

No amount of grease will cover the place I’m from,

no hour of wrench and toil in long dead seas.

I am dirty with Western blood.

Torn between nurture’s love and nature’s surround.

Love and hate the same genes,

a ride to the sunset on a rusted machine.

I am dirty with Western blood.