I hear America singing "freedom" for everyone.

I hear their hypocritical songs, singing long through the night.

I hear the rich belting their greed-filled, boasting songs

To the tune of another's hard earned money filling their bank accounts 

I hear the gays singing "equal rights for all,"

But if you dare mention the word of God, it's equal rights for none.

I hear the newspapers somberly singing the crimes of the early morning.

More by noon, and still more by night, crimes clanging through the city.

All the music in a great orchestra crying "America, the great!"

"Land of freedom and wealth, God's gift to mankind!"

But when I stop to listen very closely, past the blaring music screaming,

I hear the song of the forgotten, whispering their dying drudge.

An unborn child faintly singing "Please don't let my mother kill me."

The ballad of a starving women in a shelter hums "How will I feed my children?"

A hungry people crying "Is this really all life's about?"

If you stop to listen beyond all the boasting or aching cries,

Listen beyond the screaming of politicians, or even sorrow of the destitute

You will hear the Father screaming, singing, "My children, I'm here. Come Home."