Baltimore

I got the news on the satellite phone:
Jason, come home, Jason, dear
I heard it on the forest floor
Six years of back country trails to the lake
Machete and snake, machete I learned
To cradle in the Old State Park

Roosevelt, '33, he had a plan
For every young man:
Give him an ax and a seed;
Give him a pack and a tree;
Teach him to care for himself;
Give him fresh air for his health;
Send money back to family

Back to Baltimore
The tallboy convenience store
The indifferent, the endless war
And I know what that is
And I know what that is
And I don’t need it anymore
But I have to go home

Luke was the son of some well-to-do folk;
My family was broke, but we became friends
The parking lot, the chewed up field
I started in the park just as he was going in
A hard eight to ten for selling to kids;
My momma worked the county jail

Roosevelt's Tree Army, under the sun
The work would be done while America
Bled by the greed of the rich
The boys planted trees and found God in the pitch
They stared at the sod in each fist—
Why am I telling you this?
Is it that I'm nervous to be going back?

Back to Baltimore
The tallboy convenience store
The indifferent, the endless war
And I know what that is
And I know what that is
And I don’t need it anymore
But I have to go home

Luke, I guess, got himself into a fight
Took him to the infirmary later that night
Nothing serious, sure, but next morning he died
Then the satellite phone with the crew
Which meant I didn't cry

I'm taking the train to take time for my thoughts
Pregnant with loss, preparing for all
The things that maybe make you feel

I'll pay my respects and then I'll take a walk
The neighborhood block
And then I will leave