When the city lights go out
and they take my artwork down
and the walls break apart because they don't know how
to live without
when we spray paint our graffiti on the graves
of military slaves who never should've made
that long journey over the seven broken seas
to blot out the name of the U.S. of A.
and fight for another lie they say is 'peace'
'We're proud of you, ' now as you rest
on a bed of cold cement
let's wave a flag, 'Baby, wave goodbye'
'Your Daddy has somebody else to save'
but he's really making some other little baby cry
Little child grow up alone,
Crying mother die on your own
Here's your freedom, here's your freedom, to hug the cemetery stone!
We love you so much we kill you
and make your babies cry
Baby, I love you
(but I won't support this lie.)
So take me home, lay me down, burn me in the fire
America is dying in their world affairs
what can one writer do because she cares?
I love you, so why do you have to kill others?
Then come home in a box to give to your mother
'Aren't you proud of me now? ' asks your little brother
as he follows your voice to the pile of broken soldiers
that you used to play with as a boy with your water rifles
Gatorade's not the same as real human blood
Mother, Father, we're all here, but where is the love?
Meet you in the afterlife
see if your knife still shines as bright
held up to the light, held up to the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem