The New World

In the land of the fifty states, under the banner of heaven
Dreams have oft been told, righteous and craven
Of the that thing, claimed by right
Freedom, freedom for which men fight

Tell me brother, tell me you are not under spell
Tell me you hear not the distant bell
Of the priests and their promises sweet
Of a life of plain serfdom, without need to think

This safety is fiction, and weakness to boot
Our great civilization you'd tear out by the root
For we must have opportunity and adventure bold
To let rise the men whom the sagas foretold

-Grant Brooks