I love you, American girl, even though
          you can’t spell aluminium,
          or colour, foetus, sanitise,
          you don’t know what a biscuit is,
          or how to use a roundabout.
American girl, I know it’s hard,
to change your ways, to let go of the past.
 
I love you, American girl, even though
          your portions are all super-sized,
          you’re sugar spooned in every meal,
          you’re all fast food and fizzy drinks
          and globalised obesity.
American girl, I know it’s hard,
to tame temptation, those endorphin hits.

I love you, American girl, even though
          you always have to interfere,
          maintain control, protect the wealth,
          regardless of the final cost,
          in Vietnam, the middle east.
American girl, I know it’s hard,
to see beyond self-interest’s blinding light.

I love you, American girl, even though
          you went to your old high school and
          shot fourteen random people with
          a semi-automatic gun,
          then blew a hole through your own head.
American girl, I know it’s hard,
to live with what you’ve done, to tell the truth.

I love you, American girl, even though
it might destroy us both.