The sounds of guns pop in th air
People falling to the ground like bugs
The are no longer bare
Blood stains the walls and th rugs

America Singer runs from the guns
But they follow her throw the halls
She runs and finds herself in the kitchen, she trips on some buns
She falls on balls
The rebels find her and POP goes the guns.
America Singer falls

She falls

And falls

And falls

No more can she roam the Earth
She is now just some sort of bearth

Tradejy strikes the land as their beloved queen lies dead on the ground.