by Denny Temple

by Tesla Motor Company …

America, you gave it all up

    to me and now I’m everything.

You’ll never leave me for another—

I built for you a palace upon the hill

    so high up even the angels

    must apply for entry.

I love that you chose me above all of the others—

All of the others were just sending you

    their garbage, their poor

    and huddled masses.

Now all the people look up

    with eyes as green as my Franklins.

America, I—alone—sing you

    as your greatest daddy.

You’ve spread with conquered limbs

    my thriving markets

    from land to shining land;

Pushed my rugged individualistic

    down your purple mountain majesties;

Peddled my tax cuts

    across those amber waves

    of G-Mo grain.

America—you’re the fit, meek, smiling mother

    to proud boys of my image—

    no woke lib bastards here—

Not in my house, not in this house our fathers cried

    for old times in cotton’s field, not forgotten.

God knows you were a mess

    before I fixed you.

But as the thirst I thirst to drink,

    I’ll spare some time to help.

All those meek looking to inherit?

With me around, they won’t even dare

    to take a sip.