Land of the free
Oh land of the free, where trumpets sing all day and flutes play all night, why is your maiden tune laden with this much sadness? Oh land of the free, why is there a chain on the feet of your little ones? Why are there muzzles on the mouth of your offspring? You have turned your children into servants, to toil for survival and fight for their lives. Oh land of the free, why does your freedom come at so heavy a cost? Oh land of dreams, why are the nights of your children full of nightmares? Your story is that of tragic ending, and your comedy is that of satire and self-sacrifice. I want to know why the dogs eat to their satisfaction while your own children starve into the cold night. I am humbled oh I am, by the amount of love that pours forth from thy table. Oh I am overwhelmed by the sweet crumbs that fall out of your mouth. Oh lovely nation, thank you for the great feast, but it is your children that hunger. Thank you for the inspiring words, but it is your kindling that is disoriented. Your idea of love is when you bring forth your family, to execute them for the guests, and thy servants who you flog to your guest’s satisfaction. Oh look to your side every once in a while and see the beggars, fighting for drops from the cup of mercy and crumbs of pity from your high table of perdition. Loosen the chains; loosen the chains on your children’s necks. Heal them of their stripes and remove the yokes from their necks. What is freedom, again I ask. Is it not the capacity one has to enjoy fruits from the tree in his yard? Isn’t liberty the capacity that a young child has to dream up a future that shall not be taken away from him? Oh land of the free, your concept of freedom is ripping a baby from a poor mother and handing it to the rich. You rob the thin to feed the ever fattening and deny the needy to feed the sufficient. I hear the cries of they that have been deprived. I hear them calling to their mother, who turns her face away from her. She lies to them that her breasts have become too flabby to carry milk yet she suckles they that she birthed not. She says to them that her ears are too old to hear but she listens to strangers cry and though her legs are lame to her own race, she runs the race of others. Oh let it teeth. Let the young dreams gather their teeth. Let misery pile up the plate, and wait till the cups of wrath overflow. The stream is bubbling. The volcano is churning. Oh land of the free, live up to your creed and make freedom free for all, for when chains are stretched on end, they shall snap, and when a deprived man finds, those who had it lose. And so in the end, let freedom ring.
Oh land of the free, where trumpets sing all day and flutes play all night, why is your maiden tune laden with this much sadness? Oh land of the free, why is there a chain on the feet of your little ones? Why are there muzzles on the mouth of your offspring? You have turned your children into servants, to toil for survival and fight for their lives. Oh land of the free, why does your freedom come at so heavy a cost? Oh land of dreams, why are the nights of your children full of nightmares? Your story is that of tragic ending, and your comedy is that of satire and self-sacrifice. I want to know why the dogs eat to their satisfaction while your own children starve into the cold night. I am humbled oh I am, by the amount of love that pours forth from thy table. Oh I am overwhelmed by the sweet crumbs that fall out of your mouth. Oh lovely nation, thank you for the great feast, but it is your children that hunger. Thank you for the inspiring words, but it is your kindling that is disoriented. Your idea of love is when you bring forth your family, to execute them for the guests, and thy servants who you flog to your guest’s satisfaction. Oh look to your side every once in a while and see the beggars, fighting for drops from the cup of mercy and crumbs of pity from your high table of perdition. Loosen the chains; loosen the chains on your children’s necks. Heal them of their stripes and remove the yokes from their necks. What is freedom, again I ask. Is it not the capacity one has to enjoy fruits from the tree in his yard? Isn’t liberty the capacity that a young child has to dream up a future that shall not be taken away from him? Oh land of the free, your concept of freedom is ripping a baby from a poor mother and handing it to the rich. You rob the thin to feed the ever fattening and deny the needy to feed the sufficient. I hear the cries of they that have been deprived. I hear them calling to their mother, who turns her face away from her. She lies to them that her breasts have become too flabby to carry milk yet she suckles they that she birthed not. She says to them that her ears are too old to hear but she listens to strangers cry and though her legs are lame to her own race, she runs the race of others. Oh let it teeth. Let the young dreams gather their teeth. Let misery pile up the plate, and wait till the cups of wrath overflow. The stream is bubbling. The volcano is churning. Oh land of the free, live up to your creed and make freedom free for all, for when chains are stretched on end, they shall snap, and when a deprived man finds, those who had it lose. And so in the end, let freedom ring.
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