It's too late. She's gone too far. She's lost herself.
She's come undone.
She found a mountain that was far too high.
And when she found out she couldn't fly.
Mama, it was too late.
It's too late. She's gone too far. She's lost the sun.
She's come undone.
And so forth.
Memory is not nearly as accurate as digital recordings, and there is that thing about "she's lost the sun," or "she's lost herself." Either way, the American Woman's come undone, and the reasons are listed in the song:
Looking for truth in lies.
Not knowing where she was heading.
Too many mountains, and not enough hills.
Okay, stairs, the metaphor still works.
Too many churches ...
Okay? The Church of Microsoft, The Church of Wallstreet, The Church of Automobile Manufacturing, ...
Too many people around her unwilling to see that when she comes undone, the rest of us do, too.
Too many lives people want to lead, and too much getting toys that make it possible to pretend to have lived them, without the time to do it right.
I think it's that last one that is really killing us. We have to slow down.
(Speaking of toys, I used my iBook to record me doing the song unaccompanied. Hopefully I can get a chance to upload it to youtube, so you can torture your ears.)
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Courtesy is courteous.