There is a light on a hill, 

Gleaming in the distance,

Do not follow their example. 

Do not visit their fire. 

 

Atop the hill sits a house on fire, 

Divided and divided again, 

Built ontop the shoulders of slaves, 

Who stand on top of the graves of the fallen. 

 

The house is fallen now,

They claim its from outsiders. 

They claim they are war torn. 

They claim it is not their fault. 

 

The only outsiders are them, 

Forcing their way into country after country, 

Killing, Raping, Purging. 

But immigrants are to blame. 

 

The only nation unscathed by war is them, 

Gallavanting while economies crumbled, 

Creating weapons of mass destruction after promising not to intervein, 

Killing to keep the peace in countries their citizens don't know exist. 

But they are the ones to suffer. 

 

The only people who have power is them, 

Forcing nations to follow their lead, 

Threatning violence and promising protection for support they don't need, 

But they aren'y to blame. 

 

Leading the world's largest economy, 

The world's largest military, 

The largest teh world has seen in history, 

They should lead like a leader, not a bully. 

 

There is no equal to America, 

A nation started by revolution, 

A nation that finds no revolt acceptable, 

A nation that controls us all.

 

There is a light approaching the hill. 

The people are marching, torch in hand. 

They know that something must be changed

But who will answer to their outcries?

 

There! Amidst the rubble of the burnt house, 

On top of a throne of lies, 

Is God himself, 

Or at least his equivilent.