I hear America singing, as I sing of myself,
And you experience, as I experience.
The problems of yourself are my problems.
The youth and the young singing cries of happiness,
As you have sung the song of laughter.
At age six weeks, I sang this song of laughter
Then, at one and a half years of age, the Lord put the mute button on me.
Those are my parents' song. They pulled me through to talk again, at age seven.
I am now sixteen years old and good at talking enough to help me achieve
New goals and Mario raceway records, and to finish my homemade Nintendo Power magazine.
The magazine's songs, the ballad of Sonic the Hedgehog on Game Boy.
The rudeness of the teenager's song,
The despicable mention of rude words and D-R-U-G-S.
I am not afraid to speak, despite the hazardous flukes in America's song.
My song that I sing, although I talk well,
My peer relationship is low, and my loneliness is off the scale.