America, you of which I do dream

Every wonderful road, or each steel beam

The home of the brave, the land of the free

Why does your gaze never pass over me

forgotten, alone, almost derelict.

America, beautiful, oh so sick

how long till loved ones no longer can call

for fear of stepping o'er the lines we fall.

We spit anger, hate, violence combined

all it takes for peace, is peace of the mind.

America, my home, my wonderous grace

Why must you judge by color of their face?

     The land of which I dream does slip and slide

     One day I realized the dream. Had died.