Today my mood is Pink

I cannot say that I've ever been a huge Pink fan. I can sing along to most of her songs, and she can definitely get my bootay on the dance floor. However, I don't own any of her music. (Her first cd, Can't Take Me Home, was pretty good. But the cover art? When I saw it, I swore to myself that I would never contaminate my cd collection with anything so ridiculous. Yeah, I judge books by their covers too.)

I don't usually use my blog as a political platform. I don't rant about being a heartless conservative nor a tree-hugging liberal. I don't recall if I've ever addressed any specific issues on my blog; however, I do not suffer from lack of opinion. Maybe I will post a diatribe one day if the mood hits me, but that's not my mood nor the mood of my blog today.

Anyone who has personally spoken to me and has taken the time to get to know me even a little knows about my hopes, my frustrations and my fears. I'm a simple fella with a lot on his mind.

All that said, I'm going to bring both Pink and politics to my blog, Pinkpolitics. (Humor me.) I think that she is right on with this one, and it's a pretty good song.

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pay the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay

I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you