The stripes have gone dull;
the colors won't bleed.
Did we muddle it up?
Did we **** the dream?

Or was it disguised as a nightmare
for the ones that believed
in the black of the morning
with the dirt on their sleeve?

Was it the salt that you tasted
when it didn't go your way,
manipulating the stars
to make them all pay?

Did your servants make a mint
off a functioning back?
You still didn't earn
the empathy that you lack.

The party is over
the one I once knew
a voice will be counted
inside the small booth.

So, raise your glasses up high
and share this drink with me!
Here's to America!
My land of the Free!