It's the Fourth of July
and a spirit's in the air
that nobody can deny,
compelling them to stare
into the sky from their beach chair.
Family and friends,
barbecue and beer,
gather as the sun descends
into a valley unclear
to impart warmth into cheers
Whose bubbles fly so high
they graze heaven's basement,
and inspire even the quiet to cry
out the way they were meant
when their spirits are spent
At four in the morning,
the night strikes itself silent,
without even a warning,
people grow silent
at the moment they've been lent
Just a moment of freedom
as it was intended
from the first days of the kingdom
their bliss becomes blended
for those whose night hasn't ended
God Bless America
and all of it's glory
May we be blessed to live in the
nation of the the personal story
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