Stars, watching over the worried homes,
A line of long red bloodstripes from an old war
Before the Rothschilds took control.
The people here take pride in the care and folding,
The angle of ascent, the length of the pole,
Ironing it out like something they would wear
While dreaming of grandmothers new to these shores
And the blessings of this vast last chance Texaco
Large enough to take the most insignificant in,
Where there wasn’t something in the way of being human.
The government can now kill every one of us as it pleases
That’s the law, but mostly reserved for those
Who refuse to be implicated in the slaughter of children
For no other reason than it makes some feel stronger.
The flag thumbs its generous nose at such opposition,
That great symbol of dissent now warns against opinion,
Reminds us we have no freedom because we are not responsible.
The few who remember the way things were are sent overseas
To start their own countries (if they’re lucky) somewhere else,
And the brand is refreshed with each gusting of wind
As the buildings around them keep on crumbling.
The morning sun makes these rippling stripes
A memorial to something more than
The people who gave their lives
So that debt would grow,
It’s an undefiled dream
Waving over the projects,
The shuttered factories,
The foreclosed homes,
And everyone in terror
That they might wake up.
