All They Ask

ALL THEY ASK OF ME

Driving through a town
The civil war was over.
I don’t know why my eyes keep
Moving to the door.
Two kids standing there
are Clearly not from ‘round here.
Standing Blue and grey from 1864.
And All They Asked of me
Was to live on the land
Built on their blood
And not shed it again.
Cause it’s not the same
Now that the uniforms are
bleached white as a dove.
I’m sneaking through a Southern
town with no memory.
I see the name of 
a slave who was never sold
I’m sneaking through a Northern
City with no memory.
The mansions on
this side are not temporary.
Then it gets pretty rough straight to the coast

And all they ask of me

© Al Kryszak