Bowling For Turpentine

I have the white Indian killer blues Niggers up in trees, and Elvis Presley Shoes I have a pristine Charlton Heston view Thank god that I'm American With ugly Gortex vests, and an electric blue corvette I have an endangered species for a pet, and NOW you know that I'm American. Betty Ford clinic for my bottle swing on my fourth wedding ring Mother fucker bet your ass I sing "God it's good to be American" As a poet, all my friends agree Don't let me in on your security blanket, I'll smother your fears with a tree planted, to all the dead Americans. Raised on raisin bran in the Western heat. God I can barely smell my feet Now I ask you "wouldn't it be neat to contemplate American?" You could deny prayer in school on one day, or just move to Wyoming and kill a 'Gay'. You could shop at 'some' Mart 'til bullets ricochet against what is American. Punch drunk, a felon, I face the night. A writer, so you know I bite, and with no hooker to beat in sight I'll sleep a pure American. And if white collar was my forte I'd calculate a richer way To keep the ethnic poor at bay, and embrace the real American. So mother fuck you, you sod, you twit You thought that you could purchase it? After watching some commercial that convinced you 'it' was Ace to be American. But all of my friends, in jail, agree It's not a social expectancy? To see our Home of the free returned to us Americans.