Driving north form anywhere to home
She is the city we avoided
Hungry in a nation that feeds itself on pride
There are no return receipts for all the dreams that only pained her

Oh Holyoke tired and broke
Don’t let the river drown you dry

1849 with Irish hands and time
She made an engine from the river
Immigrants unlocked the door from Warsaw and Quebec they poured
And some got rich but she stayed poor
Factories that mortal used to breath
The billows black, the rags and fleas.
Paper is the prophit’s tool no poems writ on tradesman’s gruel
Empty buildings, empty hearts, for Montreal she’s pining

Oh Holyoke the fire won’t stoke
Don’t let the river drown you dry

Houses got cheap and empty on Bridge St.
A Puertorican lullaby
Come to cut tobacco leaf and hope to fall asleep in peace;
Threatened makes a circle when the rumors and the stakes are high
Church bells ring out on every catholic sin
we heard them calling from the highway
Lucid is her sacrifice she prays she won’t be lost in vice
She only came here to be made

Oh Holyoke fire makes smoke
Don’t let the river drown you dry

Winter is the Difference between High St. and San Juan
All the red haired children lock their doors when the sun is gone.
Is it fear in the river or on convenience store shelves?
Americana don’t you want an overpass over yourself

Buildings brick, and signs that didn’t mix
The 1920’s with the future
Like a silent picture show that never learned to talk
And walks all day in sepia past Puertorican shops
There’s no excuse for it hasn’t happened yet
That’ll help her children understand
Why the language that rushes past their mother’s tongue at night
Is never written in her hand

Holyoke thick enough to choke
Don’t let the river drown you dry