Five hundred miles of Apple orchards in my way

My song for America:



It's time that I make like an apple tree and leave.

But please know that you're coming with me. In s a small way, in spirit.

In fact, parts of you are still in my blood, in my marrow.

It will be a long time until I see the stars from your shores again but all the stars are the same, in this hemisphere at least--and I can see them from almost anywhere I've ever been.
I know sometimes you must want to lift your roots and see it all for yourself. But you are the rock and I respect that resolve.  Maybe I'll see you in year or three. I've got a tallent for loving at a distance, and there are a few things we really don't understand about each other. But it's not the end. I don't think I'll ever believe in endings.

How could I? When I know we will be such beautiful stars.

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