This Thing Of Ours

We are Americans
We like to play with guns
We’ll point them at you as we drive our cars
We blow things up sometimes
Make a living doing crimes
We like to have our SPAM with caviar
We like to bite the hand that feeds
We’ve gone beyond reproach
We eat our own, not a new approach
They say that all is fair in love and war
We’ve got a lotta nerve
We’ll spend from our reserve
It seems it’s always close but no cigar
We know that smoke gets in your eyes
Our sex is clinical
We’re so damn cynical
We order partners out of magazines
We know no bigger joys
Than sitting in our La-Z-Boys
From birth to death and nothing in between
And nothing in between