My outside doesn’t match my inside
and the back door slams when you shut it too hard
Quell qualms and burn bridges
100 bucks a pop
Call that American Sadness
Southern grits are made of coarse revenge
and skirmish
We all reach the bottom, but
Tell me we all sink at the same speed
Call that American Sadness
When I was little
I read all of Webster's 7th
Then found solace in Infinite Jest
Because I was sick and tired of
Waiting for words
Like a no-show bus
Or the red line on a Sunday
Ever since then
Nothing but fire could burn me
Call that American Sadness
Who knows the color of the rain
Who walks without tiring
And who hides behind their humdrum
Cuz they can't face the beating of a real one
Call that American Sadness
Author Bio:
Summer Brogdon loves to experiment with words. She considers herself "a wild girl in a big world." Writing is an outlet to express her thoughts and experiences.
and the back door slams when you shut it too hard
Quell qualms and burn bridges
100 bucks a pop
Call that American Sadness
Southern grits are made of coarse revenge
and skirmish
We all reach the bottom, but
Tell me we all sink at the same speed
Call that American Sadness
When I was little
I read all of Webster's 7th
Then found solace in Infinite Jest
Because I was sick and tired of
Waiting for words
Like a no-show bus
Or the red line on a Sunday
Ever since then
Nothing but fire could burn me
Call that American Sadness
Who knows the color of the rain
Who walks without tiring
And who hides behind their humdrum
Cuz they can't face the beating of a real one
Call that American Sadness
Author Bio:
Summer Brogdon loves to experiment with words. She considers herself "a wild girl in a big world." Writing is an outlet to express her thoughts and experiences.
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