American Dreams

Charlie O’ Connely, a mariner’s son
Followed the Hudson Bay tide
And found Ellis Island in 1901
Then found him a young Irish bride
He worked in a sweathouse for 10 dents a day
To pay for the children she bore
And Dublin was more than a lifetime away
The pipes weren’t calling no more
‘Cause he was locked up and tangled in poverty’s chains
But a red Celtic river ran hot through his veins
The new world was nothing but factory steam
But Charlie was dreaming American dreams

Old Marcus Jackson in south Birmingham
Digging another cold grave
A poor, black-skinned orphan of od Uncle Sam
The son of a son of a slave
He makes a small living burying bones
Of those who don’t care for his kind
Surrounded by manicured, grey granite stones
But Marcus has life on his mind
And he can feel every rhythm, hear every ghost
Of the ebony men from the Ivory Coast
A long-lost descendant of African kings
But Marcus is dreaming American dreams

Oh, you can play any tune
You can walk on the moon
It’s all up to you
Any dream can come true
’Cause it’s a rock ‘n’ roll heaven with flying machines
The whole world is dreaming American dreams