Nothing to Adore

Would Rosie be satisfied
With her sisters of today?
Would the Sons of the past
Have admiration to display?
The truth to those questions
Is not easy to say, not easy to say.

We've grown from an adolescent
Of rightful rebellious rage
To a withered old man
Long ridden of sage.

Like the First predicted,
We're now quite unstable.
He founded and fostered
As best he was able.

Unfortunately unforeseen
We have since transformed:
Neutrality now arrogance,
Freedom now ignorance.
A treasury of gold now
A treasury of lies, of deceit
And demise, of nothing more
Than the consequence of
Endless compromise.

The Sons and the Daughters,
I should surely think,
Would look on in disgust
At their once glorious home,
Their patriotic persistence
Worn down to a drone.

For they as our forefathers would
Have expected much more,
The nation we've created
Is nothing to adore.