Strange fruit swinging in the rain,

waves crashing against the stern of the ship,

feet marching upon weeping waterfalls,

words on faded papyrus, constituting nothing more now

than when the ink was waiting to dry.

A mysterious land not only God knew, but his people. 

Althought people of different circumstance 

who knew the earth we stole from them.

Then we stole them from the earth they knew.

We marched for noble things,

fighting unjust wars,

with innocent men,

hoping light could shine from covering up the sun.

Silent shacks, 

filled with molestation and fogotten languages.

A melting pot of not precious metals, 

but human beings, screaming for freedom,

knowing only some will be granted its beauty.

If one man must die so another man may live, have we made progress?

We look up to slave masters,

have statues of war monglers,

and pledge allegiance to a flag before a God.

A Christian nation full of poverty,

a democracy free of voting,

United States devided,

liberty under America.