That’s my U.S.A.

Flag on a front porch

Paint peeling off that old screen door

Granddad's boots by the welcome mat

Been through worse than this before

High school field on a Friday night

Rust on the bleachers, bugs in the lights

We stand up, hats off, hearts tight

Sing along, wrong words, still right

Here's to the backroads and red, white, blue

From the cornfields out to the ocean view

From the diner cooks to the downtown crews

We all got a story, stitched in our shoes

It ain't perfect, but it's ours to prove

That's my country

That's my United States of America

Mama worked doubles

Coffee, prayers, and pickup trucks

Neighbor mows the widow's yard

“Pay me back with a little luck”

Big city skyline, small town fair

Different accents, same kind of care

We argue loud, but when it breaks bad

We’re side by side, shoulder to flag

Fifty stars on a midnight sky

Fifty ways to live this life

Different roads, same sunrise

Same hope in a child's eyes