Naive

Perhaps I am naive
But I still believe
My country, ‘tis of thee,
Red or blue we still are
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing,
Along our roads and streets
We still congregate to
Work or make our way home
We still get a burger and fries
Still lug our groceries home,
Land where my fathers died,
From hard work old age
Accident or sickness,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
Where our faith is
Still our own choice,
From every mountainside...
Every Fourth of July
Each time justice works
All the happy dysfunctional
American families who
Reluctantly gather for
Thanksgiving Christmas
Reunions & remembrances,
All because America
Is stronger than
Some two-bit Russian despot
Who wants to be a tsar,
Let freedom ring!