The Last Americans

There's a woman in a tent
Half a day's walk from camp
All the children have gone
And her pillow is damp
She whispers to a man
Lying frail by her side
"We're the last Americans
We're the last Americans."
She writes in her book
"We but few are alive.
I know that you'll do
what you must to survive."
"Here, it's me and your father
and the Devil from camp."
We're the last Americans
We're the last Americans."
Ever too proud to run
She stayed to the last
At watch by her husband
Until he had passed
"Remember our promise
Out there on the trail.
We're the last Americans
We're the last Americans."
But out in the snow
The Devil does call
He whispers "It's time."
And breaks through the wall
He asks for her hand
She grabs for a knife
"We're the last Americans.
We're the last Americans."
They dance in a waltz
But his feet make no sound
The knife falls away
And she can't touch the ground
As they draw face to face
She spits out a breath
"We're the last Americans.
We're the last Americans!'
Ah
Up on a hill
There's a man and a pot
And a diary that reads
"Time will not have forgot
If it's one hundred years, love
I'll see you again.
We're the last Americans.
We're the last Americans"