>Twenty years since I’ve been back to the place that they call Wilmington,
Twenty years since I took off for somewhere that’s not so quick with haste.
I see the Spanish moss speaks English now because some rich man said Jesus did.
Pavement takes me to the places where this town’s soul once lived.
No one here can call it home,
No one here can remember when,
No one here can see their house,
No one here knows what life’s about.
They’ve forgotten since I left.
As if they ever knew.
I’m sure the network of drug-doing kids is as strong as it was back then,
With parents in their SUVs who quickly say “Amen.”
They said that they could have the moon,
If that was what they wanted,
But the trees blocked their view of the thing,
So they cut them down instead.
Now girls with yellow hair,
And Nissans painted gold,
Eyes of the ocean,
Noses for what is sold,
Grow up unfit and washed,
And stay inside when it’s cold.
“Here’s where your Daddy kissed me first,” she says into yesterday.
For where there once was a rose bush, they left bull dozers to play.
Still it all works out for them,
Without the nature’s rose,
Although that bush has long since gone,
They put up a brand new Lowe’s.