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"
 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"