A dog barks in the distance as fireworks light up the sky.
There was nothing more relaxing than the cold, bitter air and the smell of pine in Summer.
Me and my boys were good to go.
We rushed toward the end of the road that took us to a nearby pond.
Our hearts were racing as we planted thee American flag.
“Here we are boys!” I yelled.
It was 1963 of July the fourth.
We were just Italian-American losers coming from battle and o how beautiful the sight.
We got drunk on that night,
Just us, the dog, our pickup truck and the flag while in our hearts,
“America The Beautiful” was singing.
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