Woorden: Lee Brice. Picture of Me. Welcome to America.

5am at the Waffle House
Workers filing in, strippers walking out
Truckers driving down the interstate
Doin' coffee and pills 'cause they got bills to pay

And over the Brooklyn bridge a lady runs
Doing all she can to stay looking young, young
And underneath on a cardboard bed
A man sleeping with shoes under his head

Welcome to America
Welcome to America

College kids shotgun and beer
A hobo prophet screaming the end is near
A teenage girl in the bed of a truck
Can't help but think that this just might be love

Welcome to America
Welcome to America

Tears streaming down a mother's face
When a folded flag comes home in her son's place
In a hospital room a new daddy cries
When he holds his baby girl for the first time
She opens up her eyes

Welcome to America
Welcome to America
Welcome to America

The houses lined up like dominoes
High rises, high as they can go
A single mom at the laundromat
Dropping every last quarter that she has
Grandma's making apple pies
Grandpa's at the barber shop telling lies

Welcome to America
Welcome to America
Welcome to America
Welcome to America
Welcome to America