Bullet12_patriotism

His American girl doll teeth

His blonde, blonde hair

And his baby blue eyes

He tasted like 4th of July, 

When he was whispering lies

Id let him shoot me right there, I swear.

He couldn't do no wrong, he told me so.

I clung to every word

Like Jesus' red printed letters.

Farmer's tan skin, so hot

It gave me visions of Texas.

And when his fever sets in I don't remember it.

Next morning it's the feeling that lingers,

The feeling I get when I hear

The National Anthem.