I stand with my feet square, shoulder width apart,
And I look across you, America.

From my front door, I see all of you.
I see your rivers and your plains,
Your mountains
And your billowing smokestacks.

I see what our forefathers saw, 230 years ago, so full of hope for
A nation of vigor and sincerity,
And my eyes swell with tears.

A cool breeze blows,
And the crickets chirp as two cars cross in the night.

Where have you gone?
What happened to the Federalist Papers,
the Magna Carta,
and life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?

Where are you,
Thomas Paine,
Patrick Henry,
Ethan Allen?

You must be so ashamed.

The battles you fought, and the words you wrote,
All mangled, perverted, and tangled in a mess
of politicking, kiteflying, and barrels of pork.

If you could see us now.
If you could stand, with your feet square,
staring across the plains and the rivers,
The mountains and the musket smoke.

I am ashamed.

I am ashamed of the indifference and the atmosphere of fright that
Mass media and affluence have created.

One of you once said, a nation that sacrifices liberty for security
Shall lose both
And deserves neither.

I stand, my feet square and shoulder width apart,
And I cry for our America.