My country tis of thee
sweet land of liberty
of thee I sang:
Land where my Fathers died —
Died from foreign machines
and pus leaking from their skin.
Died by whips slicing backs,
dangling from tree limbs;
Died from empty stomach behind barred camps.
Land of the pilgrims pride
to live on stolen land;
built up from forced sweats and toil,
their blood drenched in conquered soil.
Generation to generation
when there is nothing to be proud of
of something that was never merited.
My native country, thee,
land of the noble free,
thy name I love;
Oh how I love thy patriotic tug!
Thy gift of freedom to consume
to the point where my arteries are plugged!
But who cares about other countries because you give the best to us
or should I say — some of us.
I love thy rocks and rills
thy unequal education, wealth and foreclosure deals!
My heart with rapture thrills
of all the people
silenced in your name,
broken by you; killed by you; untold by you!
You see, America is a nation of nations
to celebrate the freedom of some, but not others
who have also crossed your borders,
Calling the US (“us”) ”Land of the Free”
is by itself a name of hypocrisy!
"Let music swell the breeze,
and ring from all the trees sweet freedom's song;
let mortal tongues awake;
let all that breathe partake;
let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong":
“Let Freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let Freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let Freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!”
Let Freedom ring across the 10,000 lakes of Minnesota!
From every mountainside, let Freedom ring.
“Let Freedom ring! Let Freedom ring!”