What of It?

I grew up thinking my country was the best, not a jest,

On the rest of the world that we’re livin’ in, breathing in, lovin’ in, fightin’ in for oil,

For “peace and order” to give rights fired by the guns of blind soldiers,

While people die in our very own borders, that we built by the slave that we “saved,”

That we chained to the God of a book that was written, unwritten and written then hidden,

Then sold to the gent’ that we send to the rope, as we hope that we cope to the pain -

And the shame as we came to the dead in the name of a flag that we made

-out of blood.-

Those morals are lost, but never forgotten, we sold our children, to the corporate Dilaudid,

As their brains are rooted and modded, by the desire for profit.

HA, we lost, yet they ask,

what of it?