This is how you hold your American flag
This is how you hold your American flag
So this is how you hold your patri-fucking-otic flag
We're all a bunch of fucking disgraces

There sits an old man he's waiting and typing and paying his tax to the law
I see him through the window sill
There you are laughing and joking and waiting and praying for life to be free
And I know that you mean him well

Losing track of days
Staring to sky
As the old man yells

There she lies bleeding and crying and wasting life on a bed she has only mad
And I know she would have done him well
Stands up anger and walks to the doorway where he can yell clearly at me.
And I'm not sure I know what he means.

Losing track of days
Staring to sky
As the old man yells
Losing track of days
Staring to sky
As the old man dies

This is how you hold your American fucking, fucking flag
This is how you hold your funny little flag

As the old man dies
As the old man dies
Losing track of days
As the old man dies