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American madness, a fury unbound,
A lost nation teeters beyond solid ground.
We've crossed the stark line, flags droop low and still,
The hour grows late; has reason lost its will?

I walk as a stranger in this fractured land,
Where those I believed would lend a saving hand
Have turned, it seems, their faces from the light.
This country I knew now vanishes from sight.

A nation of shadows, where darkness takes hold,
Insanity whispers, a story untold.
Madness now drives us, a train off the track,
Into a dark future, there's no turning back.

This is not the haven of justice and truth,
The land of my dreams, the promise of youth.
Fury for the masses, a bitter refrain,
This broken landscape is a source of such pain.

Not this the country where voices are chained,
Where autonomy falters and freedom is profaned.
Beneath the sway of a ranting command,
A hollowed-out future slips through trembling hands.

Perhaps the time calls for a fierce, bold ascent,
But now, only tears mark this moment's lament.
My national spirit, ripped cruelly apart,
Fury for this madness that shatters my heart.

This desolate land, where hope finds no root,
No soil to nurture, no life to bear fruit.
Yet in this despair, a fierce ember may glow,
A future ignited from seeds of this woe.

Black masses at midnight, a nation astray,
Fury for the lost, who have stumbled and strayed.
A nation unmoored in a fevered, dark dream.

Much like a fragile figure, weak and frail,
Whose trembling limbs can barely keep their hold,
Here at our guarded, sunless walls, grown cold,

A shrieking woman with a snuffed-out trail
Of light extinguished whispers a sad tale,
A Foe of Strangers. From her listless hand.

No welcome sunshine; her harsh gaze can't withstand
The bridge-linked harbor where grim cities wail.
"Hold, selfish shores, your meager scraps!" she moans...

With bitter tongue. "Keep all your strong, your frail,
Your joyful throngs who freely make their own
Bright destinies upon your favored vale."

Reject these weak, by gentle breezes blown
Away from me on steam & iron rail...
Turn away your tired, your poor
Fury for the huddled mass beside a silver stream.

Feeling the nation unmoored...
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