The "land of the free" made a slave out of me

My people chained body and mind

While they "progress" we get left behind

We try to find our nitch, but are too dark for them to make room

So they result to exterminating their probelm with a click boom

They put the gun against his head

-Click Boom

Dying because of his country, another son will be dead

-Click Boom

Mothers are crying as the generation they birthed lies in their arms dying

We keep trying, thinking we're thriving, with the finish line flying over our desperate heads

...so close yet so far

200 years later, and here we are

The truth is difficult and simple

Their power is in their hand that they hold to our temple

Slaves to the System

Slain into submission

A dying race of people marching and wishing

From day one their gun was our doom

But our spirits can't be killed with their click boom

The "land of the free" made a slave of me

But I will take the blows until I'm free

And if I die at the hands of my country

It'll be for the generations after me