We live each day
Still devoted to our ideology
that we are free
that we live in the Land of Justice, of Liberty,
that we are better, stronger,
and informed by our History.
But we are mistaken,
we are wrong in our belief,
for we are not better
not wiser for our “History”
no, my brothers, my sisters,
we are not free.
We are the guards to the prison
that keep us chained to our misery
we are the captives, the slaves,
chained to our own poverty,
we praise our masters,
we, the cur beneath his heel,
each time we cry,
“COMPLY! COMPLY! COMPLY!”
And so it is,
the chains grow tighter,
our freedom cry but a whimper,
as we look back at our stories,
and think, mistakenly,
“We are in the land that was promised,
We are free, we are free,
We wandered through the desert,
And have found our liberty.”
But did we, did we really?
Did we find the land that was promised?
Do the freedom bells really ring?
Are we in the land of plenty,
Where none are hungry
And all have what they need?
Or, are we in the desert still,
Worn, weary, and ever thirsty?
No, we are not stuck in that same desert,
but we are still starving,
still wandering, still searching for relief,
for we’ve traded our captors, our kings
for a political, a corporate machine
that poisons the air we breathe,
the water we drink;
that profits off of prison
and the hardships it brings;
that profits from movies, TVs,
songs that make us believe
we are free,
its them, those others,
in that country,
in those clothes,
its those others
that bring this misery.
We’ve traded desert for a desert
Our slaves yokes for chains of a different name
Our feudalism for a capitalism
A system whose effects are the same,
The rich get richer,
and the poor work themselves into an early grave.
But now, we fool ourselves as we cry,
“They hurt because they deserve it!
All they had to do was comply!”
All they had to do was be smarter
be wiser, work harder, work longer,
talk less, bend more,
in the deserts, in the streets,
of this land