America, land of the free-range eagle,
sippin’ light beer on a tank-tread keg—
we deep-fry the ozone, BBQ the metric,
launch a red-glare taco to Pluto’s dark side.
Star-spangled Wi-Fi in every bunker,
we stream the moonwalk in 8K freedom.
From Walmart to Valhalla we roll coal,
hymns in the key of turbo V8.
Oh say can you see—through the vape-cloud—
our flag doing burnouts on anxiety?
Yeah, we cough stars, we loot the future,
but the chorus is ours:
America, f**k yeah—
come get some liberty.