There's a penny poised on a whitewashed fence 
There's a little black boy praying for his government 
There's a nervous lady reaching for her place 
There's a red faced son running from his race 

Everything that rises 
Everything that rises must converge 

This is my country-this is your sign- 
We are painting fences, drawing lines 
Well I don't know much about anything 
And I don't know much about conversation 
Look at me, look at me giving my weakness away 

Do you know Coventry-ribbons and bows- 
She will throw confetti in your soul 
Well I don't know much about anything 
And I don't know much about conversation 
Look at me, look at me giving my weakness away

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Saturday, March 24, 2001.