I’m the red clay canyon of the Colorado River,
I’m the old dominion in the rain.
I’m a wind-swept battlefield at Vicksburg,
I’m the last two minutes of the game.
I’m an Indiana cornfield on a hot summer’s day,
I’m a Popsicle and the popcorn at the park.
I’m a slum,
A forgotten fife and drum.
I’m underground Atlanta, after dark.
I’m a street fight and a crap game up in Harlem,
I’m the Rams and I’m your old Kentucky home.
I’m a politician’s cheater,
I’m a two cheese-burger eater.
I’m a couple,
I’m a crowd,
And I am alone.
I am Jack and I am Bobby and I am Martin Luther King.
And with sorrow I have watched these young men die.
From riches and from rags,
I have buried them in flags,
And I have loved them for they cared enough to try.
I have had my brothers beaten in the jungles
And in the cities.
I have seen them raped and pillaged on the Plains.
I’ve made mistakes, but that’s the breaks
And I’m willing to accept my share of the blame.
I’m Abe Lincoln, I’m a slave,
I’m a coward and I am brave.
I’m a wino; I’m a lid,
I’m the Coca-Cola kid; I’m 5¢ lemonade,
I’m the fireman’s brigade.
I am country, I am soul,
I’m the blues and I am rock-‘n’-roll.