Work Text:
I dream of Philadelphia,
Of screaming, crying
Of little fat footsteps
In plaster-cast shell.
I dream of Philadelphia,
And waiting, and planes,
And family photos
Soaked in a deep marinade
Of sepia-yellow.
I dream of Philadelphia,
Of you, of me,
Of black-out TV screens
And rainy afternoons,
And how I never told you that I cried that night
And how you never told me you did too.
I dream of rich seeping green
Of mountains maybe,
Railroad tracks.
American beauty and American dream
Corrupted somehow in the day he left
And then, from all days onward
In struggle and poverty.
I dream of Philadelphia,
And when your mother took you in her arms
On Philadelphia land
To build a life,
Did she feel glad?
To raise you far from where she was born,
And hold you past thirteen
When she had lost her own.
I dream of Philadelphia,
Of something broken
I dream of losing him,
On that mountain and
Little feet patter again
Searching for brown amongst brown
Until he was found
And hugging him close like rags
Borne in a spiteful breath of acceptance.
I dream of Philadelphia—
A Yorkshire man
Lost a home and lost a name
Found himself in the folds of fabric
Spun on Yorkshire land and Yorkshire twine
I found him in a black candle
Immigration laws from here to there
And New York greets him in a flood of livelihood
And disease claims him in prejudice too
As little Andrew finds his missing home.
I dream of Philadelphia,
Lying in my bed,
Eyes awake and wide,
Lyrics in my head and I—
Rest my head upon your forearm
Spill your beer a little,
And though I've never been, and I
Don't know what it looks like and
I probably never will
Philadelphia seems a dream to me,
A dream to you and I
Even when I’m wide awake.