The stripes have gone dull the colors won't bleed. Did we fuck it all up? Did we kill 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!