The Patriot
Fly the flag young 'un
Like your elders did before
Seek the sun young 'un
Dieing's kind of fun
Blood just comes back to haunt you
If it's rotting on the flesh
Bleed that goddamn sucker dry
And you'll have dreams like daisies
Or burn the poor fool to a crisp
And spare him the wily worms
That devour never-ending
Fly the flag my son
And in your eyes they'll see
The young 'un he's long gone.
