This here's the land of eyes of stripes and star spangles And infinite streams of flag draped angels Limitless dreams that have turned into fables White-collar fiends still paying for halos We believe that praying on our knees Will somehow free the dreams we conceive Cause this here's America, import the oil From third world countries we've trained to be loyal Look in the mirror, then look at Darfur We helped their division and wonder what they're scarred for Created classism, wonder what they sparred for Provided weapons and wonder what they're carved for We're not the only ones responsible of course But how is it we're living without remorse When death isn't sitting on our own front porch We only do good to avoid recourse
Chorus: Give me your tired, weak, and oppressed Trial by the fire, burn who we neglect I'm tired, but the weary never rest And change maintains with each new step
Louis Vaton purses, diamonds that spawn hearses Anything less is synonymous with worthless Models perfect, airbrushed and photoshopped I wonder what would happen if the photo snappin stopped And rappers partied without being blunted But truth is something most have never confronted Enough ice on their necks to leave Sierra Leone flooded They'd catch pneumonia if not already cold blooded Growth is stunted by the paradigm you're unpatriotic If you bring up questioning topics That's beyond nonsense, totally obnoxious Constantly accepting the status quo is toxic We need questions to make us honest Because you see growth is a natural process Of bettering the self through being truly honest That's the only way to manifest the land promised
Chorus
I love our troops, that's why I want em home But care is something Uncle Sam has never shown Appendages blown and replaced with IV's Withdrawal from morphine produces dry heaves I need to see respect in place of neglect Before I can elect those who only protect Their own neck and party and leave the rest stuck Partisan posturing, who gives a flying make love And take funds from a pointless crusade Waged to cover up mistakes that Bush made You may think the war on drugs is workin But all it's doin is increasing the burden On the already poor, turning burbs into ghettos Into hell. You awake? Hello? I write this as a patriotic fellow But am I proud now? The answer's hell noTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
