America, the Great for it, is modest
America, the Brave for it, is a coward
America, the Free for it, glistens with its chains
Look at this majestic land
For their waves the internal flag of despair
We curse the man that points the gun
How dare they point at our race!
Without fear of truth
Eyes cold as sin
They point, aim, and fire!
The shadow that lingers behind
But, not my mind
For that is light