America, you of which I do dream
Every wonderful road, or each steel beam
The home of the brave, the land of the free
Why does your gaze never pass over me
forgotten, alone, almost derelict.
America, beautiful, oh so sick
how long till loved ones no longer can call
for fear of stepping o'er the lines we fall.
We spit anger, hate, violence combined
all it takes for peace, is peace of the mind.
America, my home, my wonderous grace
Why must you judge by color of their face?
The land of which I dream does slip and slide
One day I realized the dream. Had died.