I hear everything from the big city to the rural country
I smell fresh and polluted air
I see military men and women saluting me
I taste the sweet aroma of the country I am here for
I feel loyalty, as well as hatred
I watch ball games and races
I cry for those I cover in coffins
I say ‘never give up’ that’s why you have me
I make people cry when they think of what I stand for

Three colors on a scrap of canvas fluttering in the wind
Can only represent the smallest part
Of a native love so deeply buried inside
Even the most cynical heart, causing
A brief smile, a sudden cheer, as colored stars
Scatter across the sky above staring eyes
Waving three colors on a scrap of canvas.
Proud lineage of the storm-tossed refuse

I am America…
I wonder how strong I am
I hear my song
I see freedom in the eyes of our president
I want people to enjoy me more.
I am America…

I pretend like everything is okay
I feel loyalty
I touch the hearts of many
I worry about my people
I cry for the unfree.
I am America…

I understand my place
I know I am great
I dream of love
I try to make everything perfect

I

Fire in the sky—a celestial rain of colors bursts
Shooting into space from a mountain of faces.
The stars do not know the reason of bombardment
Is the signing of a piece of paper by fifty-six men who
Long ago pushed up daisies fighting a war
Between a mother and her rebellious child across the ocean.

But the faces do, and they say that

It was a beautiful work of art. The sun glistened off its graceful curves of gold, and glimmered among the majestic shapes of the engraving etched into the face. It was big, bold and stunning, fit for the elite, and especially for Josiah Deacon.