Lyrics

She was born beneath a blood-stained quill,
Her cradle rocked on conquest’s will.
They spoke of freedom—laced in gold,
While buying flesh, both young and old.

A constitution, sharp and grand,
With justice scrawled by trembling hand.
But parchment tears when soaked in sin,
And not all voices entered in.

⸻

America, illusion dressed in grace—
Your values wear a borrowed face.
You chant of truth with hollow breath,
While dealing dreams in quiet death.
We loved you once—we can again,
But not under the slogan “make American great again”

⸻

They penned of rights—life, liberty—
Then sold the soul to property.
The eagle flew with sharpened claws,
And feasted on your broken laws.
They preached of life, of sacred right.
So why’s the dark in bandages to feed the light?

The slaves who built your shining halls,
Still haunt your marble, sacred walls.
And native bones beneath your feet
Compose the hymns you won’t repeat.

⸻

America, you burning creed,
A land that starves what it must feed.
You sing of peace with loaded hands,
And crucify the ones who stand.
What is a flag but cloth and thread,
When draped across unburied dead?

⸻

In every speech, a veiled command.
In every war, a promised land.
You teach the child to pledge and pray,
Then take their worth and walk away.

And those who scream to right your wrongs
Are labeled threats, not freedom’s songs.
Your liberty’s a stage, a show—
Where power feasts and truth bows low.

⸻

America, you fractured shrine,
We drank your myths like sacred wine.
But history stains what men conceal,
And wounds ignored refuse to heal.
Still—somewhere deep—we beg and plead:
Become the land you swore you’d be.

⸻

So here we stand, the bruised, the wise,
Beneath your ever-watchful eyes.
Not in hatred, but in pain—
Writing ballads in the rain.
For every soul you failed to protect,
We sing. We mourn. They await you in death.