Under the bridge fires punctuate the darkness
 Salvaged my mast from a fire sale in Queens
 The city blows up, trembling in the water
 And I holler, innocent and free

 Floating downstream, somewhere in Indiana
 Counting the silos and singing La Marseillaise
 Stealing corn and weaving wild flowers
 Into a sail that’s bigger than the sun

 [bad word] and chains and [bad word] on the shore
 Sun-kissed slashes I steer right past
 Mistook your rockets for fireworks and flares
 I guess the hunt is on, tracers mark the bullseye

 Forever westward, forever expanding
 Armadas armed with waterguns and mirrors
 The crowd is cheering, throwing neon streamers
 And we holler, innocent and free