What is this light from dreams of lofty thought?
From minds of inventive graces for a new life in hope they sought.
To live a life of ownership so often as the free.
To live a life in liberty in a place called The America Dream.
Where are all these dreamers, the great people of our past?
Have they sought a land elsewhere because freedom here did not last?
What my own hands have now worked for heaven calls my right for wage.
But these stripes upon my back these are the sins of my yesterdays.
Even so with my imperfections I warred to right my wrongs.
I paid in blood for honor to rid this land of our histories greatest wrong.
Then I yielded forth my pages to sit one upon freedoms Throne.
But you lied and took advantage of me and became Americas most saddest song...
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