No picnic no barbecue out in the back.
A yard for parked cars left to rot and forget.
For chained-up mad dogs for garbage to sit.
Get lost get lost a part from it.
I can't see through it.
But I can see past.
With me with me always.
Without going back.
Just people and buildings.
Not city or town.
Great lake crooked river.
Flat land water burns.
The air not smoke.
It tears the eye.
Home is where you live.
Home is where you'll die.
I can't see through it.
But I can see past.
With me with me always.
Without going back.
In a glacial slide.
Over ice mirrored glass.
In a slip and past times.
Are in the future brought back.
Reflected reflected reflected.
Every footstep.
No walk in the park.
No there is nowhere.
No place can replace.
What a clear eye reveals.
Soft and hard shaped like a wheel.
Made me of rubber made me of steel.
I can't see through it.
But I can see past.
With me with me always.
Without going back.
Writer(s): Tracy Chapman
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