Get What You Love

There's a place young men go to die
as far from home as they can get,
or at least they talk it up like that.
They always end up back in health,
but their minds never really change.
They often think of heading back that way.

I remember
the Roosevelt lot,
and those small town cops,
our inebriated dancing
out of time with the Four Tops,
and everything else that should never be let out.

You have to love what you've got,
and get what you love.
Love what you've got!
What you have to do does not own you.
It's not anything that controls you.

Love what you've got,
and get what you love.

There's a place grown men go to die
in the hearts of their hometowns,
where things lie broken and changed throughout.
They run to their names touched in cement,
tripping on all that's unfamiliar
and giving up on the love once found here.

I remember
in back alleys and parks
the crowds that gathered,
and dispersed even quicker.
Public acts of indecency;
such dangerous things to some people it seems.

You have to love what you've got
to get what you love.
Love what you've got!
What you have to do does not own you.
It’s not anything that controls you.

Love what you've got,
and get what you love.