I
America the beautiful the promised land.
There’s no end to the sky there’s no burn to the sand
Six years old-- grasps a water-gun in gritty hands
II
Green lights fade, Gatsby’s dead and there’s red stop signs
Red like the debt and the lines in our eyes
Cynical-- seeing guns behind every headline
III
Frost thought we were escaping by turning to the sea
Beds neglected and we’re turning to the drug of caffeine
Neglected and forgotten
--The American Dream--
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