The Copper Lady

Tear down the copper lady Lamp lifted high, interrupting the sky Tear down her lies. She is unfittingly crowned Reigning a farce where grace is sparse And the wretched refuse remain. The golden door is no more We are still tired, still poor Still wanting, still sore. Tempest tost to her shore, The dress she wore And promise she bore Unwound at their core. And we've ignored. Quietly under these stars, The now fifty, Our rights are wrong. Yet no one tastes deceit. They see Liberty metallic, Blue as the waters she commands, Beckoning, inspring. Tear down the copper lady.