Now sitting in Pioneer Center at my table,
American flags (six) fly high as they’re able,
At one, and two, and three hundred feet,
Two others at twenty, and one up ten more,
For men who lived only to never be beat,
On hill and in valley, from shore unto shore.
But enemies in are worse than without,
Especially when men their self-value do doubt.
They beg for a socialist government fix,
Ignoring the meaning of “free” in these six.
The sunlight has lit them, the wind blows them fair;
Oh, say, can you see the true life in them there?
Oh country, my country, look up and defy
That gravity—selfless— which pulls you from high!