We were drunk on box wine
and we cheers-ed our spigotted cardboard over and over,
salute and "here's to X" and nostrovia
Because why not? It's a celebration.
And every time, in a choir, GWB's "mission accomplished"
And the local kids we hired to play the night?
They got in on the drinking too.
Because why not? Aren't they American too?
And, y'know kids, eventually one puked on the other's amp,
But after the fight, they played Sweet Home Alabama for us
While they spat blood into the hay between verses
Then, a tire fire sorta happened, and "aw what the hell, sure"
We all danced and drank, sucking in that black smoke,
and out came the syrup and the football
and the "two of these'll put your head right"
Because why not? We did what we were supposed to,
praying (and drinking) hard here
and dying (and dreaming) hard there.
And then I saw somebody's wife (can't say who)
slipping her gold off into those cute little apple-bottoms
and she bounced around the fire,
popping whatever was dropped in her hand
smoking whatever hit her nostrils
and swallowing whatever burned good,
cause I guess she felt her fight was over.
Mission accomplished, right?
And she grabbed that man from the Wal-Mart
Because why not? It's a free country.
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