Words and music by Ben Sollee


In a school yard nation, in a playground tower

A young jury sends a “villain” down the slide

He is a child in exile, weeping in the wood chips

A castaway turned leader of a growing tribe

A secret hand shake, a new declaration

Scraps from art class fold in to a flag

A conflict out of context, a coffee-stained playbook

The sense of yearning and a lesson in desire


There’s a fence in the desert somewhere

There’s lines in the sea that are not to be crosse

There’s a women living as a man

There’s medicine in the weed

There’s water on the moon

There’s a private rocket ship heading there soon

There’s a symphony in the streets

There’s a gallon-bucket band in Carnegie Hall


An iridescent phone call plays slowly in my mind

A clerk at a window caught you in a lie

Yeah, I remember the crackling feeling in my heart

Security cameras shook me apart

I had a lot to learn about where I was from

I had a lot to learn about forgiveness

I had a lot on my mind


At least half of what I’ve done

Maybe more of who I am 

Will be forgotten

Won’t be remembered

Like all the stories never told

The digital lives scattered in code

All of the footsteps that will never be traced

The forgotten ways of an ancient race