…No one ever taught her how to pray
So he decided he would…sadly the only parts he got right were the facts that you have to be on your knees, and you gotta do it like you mean it
Until his orgasm tastes like salvation at the back of your throat.
Swallow your pride along w/ millions of wasted lives
There is no fast track to the promise land, you can’t cut the corners you stand on…
So she breaks out her sexiest pose…and holds

She’s tried to remove herself from the pedestal she’s been forced to hold down, but Uncle Sam ain’t havin’ that shit
The last time she got a little confidence, he beat her into a depression and the bruises still echo like 1929…
When hopes and opportunities decided to stop praying for her, the American dream woke up
And all the huddled masses sat shivering under her dress right beside the formerly elite

And she’s tried so hard to stay resilient, but it’s difficult when the only time dead presidents are on your side is when men tuck in between your hip and your thong

And he tells her “Dance bitch like you like this song”
Sweat falls from her curves like gravity has a crush on her hard work
And she’s just trying to pay for an education, or raise a family, or just keep food on the table but
Tectonic plates break a little too easily when she’s so full of faults
She doesn’t even bother speaking up for herself because her voices cracks under the weight of his demands
And all her children just fill the stands to watch it all burn down,

The masses have become masochists,
She wasn’t in church the last time mass occurred
If he would’ve found out she was
She’d have been massacred

Because I’ve heard that they say He… is a jealous God
And Uncle Sam don’t need no help running shit on his borders… so she just obeys

Like the street lights are a leash around her neck.
Her cheek bones know the back of his hands like the back of her hand
And the front can’t even form the shape of redemption

They can only grip old bed sheets that feel like a worn out constitution
And hold on to manhood better than a homophobic

Her name in itself, is an oxymoron because she is neither a lady, nor does she recognize liberty in the mirror. Only seven years’ worth of bad luck that has been in its sixth year for nigh unto 400.

She just wants to be protected and loved like her declaration of independence promised her but

Promises and Hearts are the only thing that don’t make a sound when they break…

Oh beautiful forsaken eyes, with amber waves of pain
And purple mountain tragedies across her fruitless strain
America America
God stripped his grace from thee
And crowned…