How America Became a Woman: National Pubescence

I love you America  
and your stolen land  
and your plains colored with red man's blood.  
 
I love you America  
and your architecture built by  
the callused hands of slavery  
and the poor.  
 
Your niggers, your white trash, your crackers, your carpetbaggers and vagabounds.  
 
Your bitches, your cronies, your Massas, your skinheads, anchor-babies, and Neo-Nazis.  
 
My love for you is without bounds.  
Your legitimacy keeps our Union together.  
 
The hands of God are never clean.  
He works with us dirty playthings.  
 
God bless our little pile of shit  
and build us humans again from dirt.  
To think we are his image throughout the Earth  
even in our iniquity.  
 
Flags raised. People killed,  
conquered.  
But I wouldn't change it for a thing.  
 
The messes and corruptions of the industrial age bled greatness.  
 
Dead man's fluids are a bitter wine  
until I am dead drunk on sensibilities.  
 
Civilization is a beautiful thing  
when you have the riches of lower breeds.  
 
I am glad to have been born American,  
not Palestinian in the way of Israeli pride.  
 
I love to be American,  
not of a failed state born a destabilized colony.  
 
Why apologize to Mexico for the California sun?  
 
We can't hope for the past to be better.  
We'd rather have freedom than happiness.  
We'd rather a life like a booster cable spark  
than a life like a tree that goes everly green  
in great sinless form.  
 
No apologies. We wouldn't save the Seminoles even if we saw their kids  
because ours get to go to Disney World.  
 
But if there is any red man left,  
he can go see princesses wave from their parade seats  
and see the fire stars burst in the sky.  
 
But now it's not about color at all.  
We have bi-racial sex to look ancient Egyptian blood.  
No, it's about poverty.  
Clinton is a race-baiting witch.  
 
The Americans that killed are not the Americans that live today.  
 
The man is dead,  
and his flesh was force-fed to the middle-class through the trickle down effect.  
 
But those corporate bastards sprinkle only dust and share gold with the corrupt in countries with devaluated currencies and lives  
gang-raped by their own politicians.  
 
What I love about America is that we are compassionate pigs.  
We consume enough to feel nothing,  
and then we donate to the harmed.