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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A memory is like a rock in the river The longer it drifts the smaller it gets Possibly distorted by the waves Like a memory over the course of time It gets whittled down and fades And eventually you wonder if you just made it up But perhaps the idea is greater than truth To say we need the idea is perhaps an understatement To cling to some ancient ideals The way a man might cling to a fading memory Even as it drifts down the river being whittled away Perhaps then that rock is something more Not just a memory or something to cling to But a living embodiment of all we stood for Perhaps the rock drifting down the river Slowly being whittled away by the rushing water Is the rock we call the American Dream And the longer it drifts down the river The more the American Dream gets whittled away We start to wonder if it was ever truly there Or if it was ever what we truly stood for Perhaps it was merely a grand illusion A facade in memory that we repeated enough Thinking that through repetition a lie becomes a truth That, no, there was an American Dream An American dream we fought desperately to save That the consternation we suddenly felt would fade over time And we'd all go back to holding hands And dancing through the river with joined arms Singing about the good old days Because over time the memory became smaller It faded as it traveled through the river And we replaced the missing pieces with prettied lies For when that rock finally settles on dry land It's not the same pretty rock we all saw in our minds It's an ugly and pathetic little thing ravaged by time Ravaged by the river of people who sullied it Though it was never righteous to begin with The American Dream is simply that, a dream It's something we sleep with at night to keep us cozy To help us get through the harsh reality That much like the ugly rock that went through the river Our nation has become that very rock We're painting America with pretty lies Because the truth is ugly Perhaps the lie is greater than truth And eventually wonder if the truth was ever a truth As it got whittled down over time and faded Like a memory over the course of time Definitely distorted by waves The longer it drifted the smaller it got The American Dream is a fading rock in the river
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