Red, white and blue morning rose
in colors bright and streaming,
to pale as the sun climbed higher
like our faded, jaded, oft paraded Old Glory
We are living in twilight's last gleaming;
the glory that was once, the horrors now upon us
Is this still the home of the brave and just
or just more lies my teacher told me?
Take a good look around,
see which way the wind is blowing,
put your ear to the ground
hear the rumbling as we stumble,
look for the justice if it can still be found
as the money men smile, content in the knowing
that only the money keeps flowing
through us, not to us and of little use
for of what use is coin of the realm
when it will not purchase the Truth?
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