Escort me to the spot where she hoovers,
Over the Chicago River on a crisp Spring day,
Because I know if she can warm those twisted canals,
If she can smile down at that 156 miles of corrupt water,
She will be able to help us rekindle our hearts.

Bring me to the place over the mountains of Washington,
Where she sits just above the peek of the cotton topped rocks,
The place where she burns like the fire in our souls,
And lights the mysterious valleys with her joyful glow.

Just take me to this spot in your vast sky,
Over every part of you that’s cold or unlit,
So I can shed hope on every piece you won’t let me see,
Because I know somewhere in all of the storms you’ve faced,
A rainbow, so colorful and bright,
Is waiting to wrap its strands of red and purple around your bones,
I want the spot right between your snow white clouds—
The place that no one else could fill until now.