So I am my own stepchild.
This is everyone on my side, I say.
I speak up for the impossible falling through.
Could you bring this breakdown to the media?
Maybe we could take some pictures
And change them in clever ways.

Sun to sun I am stuck in.
This is everyone at my door, shut out,
So untrue, so un-american.
When they feel my teeth on their skin,
Smile for the cameras, baby.
It's your lucky break and they are waiting on you.
And I'm waiting on you.

Come too soon to make up for all the negative.
When you come to sing me to sleep, say,
"This is everyone running away."

Un-American, baby. (repeat)