Rubber Band

Driving along American roads
For three and a half hours across state lines
Trying to keep some things off my mind
With a hair tie ring around my left-hand finger

What’s left to be said about Americana
I’ve never really cared much for it
Churches and gas stations and Confederate flags
Every one you pass just to see again

Making conversation with people I don’t know too well
Feeling as out of place as the power plants I pass
Every mile we drive a mile to retread
The rubber band around your neck
Makes it hard to catch your breath

Solar farms next to an old gun store
Progress doesn’t care who it’s for
I’m just a passenger, waiting to get there
And feel pulled back again