This is how you hold your American flag   So this is how you hold your patri (censored) otic flag   We’re all a bunch of (censored) disgraces      There sits an old man he’s writing 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 the sky as the old man yells      And there she lies bleeding and crying    And wasting life on the bed of tears that we've made   And I know she'd have done anyway   Stands up in anger and walks to the doorway where he can yell clearly at me   And I’m not sure I know what he means      This is how you hold your American flag   This is how you hold your American (censored) flag      As the old man dies