I was a tender-age child
When the border snapped
I was the feeding hand
That you bit back
And your President was a tender age too
Kept us all up at night sicking ICE on our wounds
My mother prays in a prison cell
Oh she prays to the powers White men haven't claimed
And my brother's shoes are on TV
Yeah I've heard he's in a Walmart in the Land of the Free
I think you're all afraid
How could you be afraid of me
You might be king of the scales
But I have the weight of a family
I was a tender-age child
On the Fourth of July
Your American Dream kept me up at night
The bombs you blew
And the cash you coddled
Paid homage to your American Idols
But I'm American too, now don't you forget
This is not my dream but it is my bed
I'm American too, hear me out please
You can put me down
But I'm not gonna sleep
I was still a young child
When the sickness came through
I rattled the bars and I pleaded with you
But all that you heard was Capitalist Bull Shit
And come Sunday morning got Trump at the pulpit
So fuck you all too
I'm glad it worked out
You can sit safe at home with your money in your mouth
Yeah fuck your whole scheme
Yeah you closing the office
Don't you know bodies were ground for your sausage
Fuck it all over
We need a new order
So we're coming to eat you
And give you the fever
This sweet, mournful “loose concept” album from folk artist Ian McCuen tracks a journey across the bleak landscape of American life. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 22, 2022