America when will you be full?

Haven’t you quenched your thirst from those pipelines yet?

Haven’t you swallowed enough of those terrorists?

Haven’t you coughed up enough democracy?

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve become a glutton.

Gorging on the sweet tantalizing fruit of conquest.

Lathering your pasty skin with the dark sands of the Middle East,

While racing with those Chinese to scarf down your own mother.

I’d say you don’t need a second helping.

You’re already tall as it is.

 

But America don’t you worry.

We hear your message loud and clear.

How dare we allow those tattered souls to pour into our arms?

How dare we acknowledge those good for nothing natives?

How dare we question the economic ballet on Wall Street?

How dare we allow religion to be isolated from your secular beauty?

But America don’t you worry.

We’re to blame, not you.

 

But how am I supposed to change?

I can’t hear the news with Dylan’s harmonica screeching in my ear!

And I refuse to crack open those musty books with their cold spines glaring at me.

And I can’t possibly keep up with you when I have to update my status.

Oh, I wish I had your knowledge.

Maybe then I would know what to do.