Tourist Season, Hunting Season
Tourist season in California,
A summer away from my small town,
Slamming on the brakes in rush hour,
Curses are throw, fingers are raised.
And I, a girl from a small town,
Advert my eyes.
But something changes after only
A few months of
Curses & screams & colorful people
& fish & San Francisco.
In coming back to my small town,
I don't belong anymore.
Me, with my new clothes & shoes,
My new ideas and liberal views,
Surrounded by different opinions than mine,
But they are almost all the same.
In my car in California, during tourist season,
I had to ask what the pink geometric shape meant.
In my car in Iowa, during hunting season,
I'm only given half the truth about the attack
On us and then Iraq.
I would rather be in my car
In California, during tourist season,
Getting the bird and yelling a curse,
Then in Iowa where there is no tourist season,
Because it's always hunting season,
And in my town
If you think for yourself
You'll be pregnant the next day.
A summer away from my small town,
Slamming on the brakes in rush hour,
Curses are throw, fingers are raised.
And I, a girl from a small town,
Advert my eyes.
But something changes after only
A few months of
Curses & screams & colorful people
& fish & San Francisco.
In coming back to my small town,
I don't belong anymore.
Me, with my new clothes & shoes,
My new ideas and liberal views,
Surrounded by different opinions than mine,
But they are almost all the same.
In my car in California, during tourist season,
I had to ask what the pink geometric shape meant.
In my car in Iowa, during hunting season,
I'm only given half the truth about the attack
On us and then Iraq.
I would rather be in my car
In California, during tourist season,
Getting the bird and yelling a curse,
Then in Iowa where there is no tourist season,
Because it's always hunting season,
And in my town
If you think for yourself
You'll be pregnant the next day.