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Lonely Missour-uh I'm here I made it I'm out from California Came out to keep you company But now I'm the one alone out in the fields of wheat and I could cry me my own Mississippi or at least my own Lick Creek... Lonely Missour-uh I was going vertigo atop those cliffs of California. Turns out you keep good company... except for me I'm draggin' my feet out in the heat where the factories smell just like the road kill where the blacktop scars run through fields and up hills to where the lady of the Ozarks wears a shawl of Queen Anne's lace with Mullen brows and poison ivy hair around her face To the lady of the Ozarks standing sturdy on oak trees with trousers made of butterfly weed ending past her knees To where she cries out the black and current rivers to where she cries out that old lick creek where we row ourselves towards something like comfort towards sunsets pallet fires and sleep.... Lonely Missour-uh. I hardly knew you, see I'm from California. Except it's not you, but I who's alone, and I was born there, but can it ever be a home? I'm from families and stories more than places, more from migrations, more from displacements... until here I am the Imposter in a world of schemes and dreams and pain and wonder. I could cry me that old Colorado, I could cry me my own Klammath falls. Shoot me down that Mullholland aqueduct back to my kinfolk, âCause for now, that's where they are... Lonely in California. From Letras Mania