Fortunate Sons from New Growth by Bryn Ryder

There’s a sticker on an SUV four doors down the street
Screaming “We The People”
But I don’t think they mean me
And a yard sign shouts “All Lives Matter”
Excepting the black and brown ones
Labor agitators, feminists, queers, and gender freaks

My father says stay away from politics
And stick to entertainment
But my whole existence is a statement piece
No need to protest if you’re the righteous
Or don’t own a uterus
In these Unites States of theocracy

Pull up a lawn chair and a cold beer
Watch it all undone
While you clean your guns
Just wait 'til next year when the smoke clears
Biblical oblivion
But only for the fortunate sons

There’s a prophecy of catastrophe
Doom scrolling through my news feed
Tells me of the coming culture war
It's brother versus sister versus whatever doesn’t fit your world view
As long as you do you
Until they’re storming your front door

Pull up a lawn chair and a cold beer
Watch it all undone
While you clean your guns
Just wait 'til next year when the smoke clears
Biblical oblivion
But only for the fortunate

Pull up a lawn chair and a cold beer
Watch it all undone
While you clean your guns
Just wait 'til next year when the smoke clears
Biblical oblivion
But only for the fortunate sons

Pull up a lawn chair and a cold beer
Watch it all undone
While you clean your guns
Just wait 'til next year when the smoke clears
Biblical oblivion
But only for the fortunate sons

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