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Musee Mecanique
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O, Astoria!
For the rest of our lives we'll be swaying
As laces and dirtied old soles.
From the branches young age's engagements
Have flocked with the sparrows and gulls
To O, Astoria.
'Neath the rails of old engines' abandon
'Tween cracks in the gravel and moss
Where the flickers of memories we flattened
In the copper of pennies are lost
In the shade of our glory
At the hill where the old chapel stands
There is held our beliefs where we left them
In the skin of the tall pines, the rocks, and the sands
Of O, Astoria!
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There we on the water took count
Of the moons that have orbited us and gave weight
To our arms that could open but slight
Though our words would change even gravity's might.
With the dust and the ash of our fathers passed
Tucked neatly in our blood
O, what length we've waited for this place to seek us out!
O, Astoria.
In the shade of our glory
At the end of Columbia's breath
Did we know our beliefs when we forged them
In the skin of the tall pines the rocks and the sands?
Of O, Astoria!
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