The New America

She dances, as though someone were watching,
A disgusting stomach protruding from her shirt.

He walks around, like he owns the place,
Grin on his face, ignorance on his lips.

She'll sleep with anyone as if she were that lonely,
Just make sure you offer her a drink first.

He avoids books as though they were cyanide
And one drop would end his prostigous athletic career.

She cries herself to sleep each night beside her son,
She was never supposed to turn out like this.

He sits in a dark, lonely room, like he had every night
Since she left. The bottle was the only face that he would see.

She dresses as though she jumped into her clothes
And wore what stuck, can't be like anyone else.

He finds himself sinking to newer and newer lows,
Nevermind the needle and the spoon, it's all for the band.

She dyed her hair black, it had to match her new clothes
Which had to match her new "scene".

He lived with a war in his mind, always wanted to protect
The people, but now they're the farthest thing from his thoughts.

We are the new America -
Grotesque, zealous and ignorant.

We're here to stay
Unlike your ideals.

Author's Note

12/17/08