when it's the home of the caged
when it's home to beautiful women caged in the bodies of slaves
i refuse to call this the land of the free
when i'm not free to walk down my street
without the fear of becoming one in three
when i am not free to wear a dress
without the fear of asking for it
i refuse to call this the land of the free
when i'm not free to flirt
without the fear of that smile being taken as an invitation
to pin me down and pull off my jeans
when i am not free to control my own body
when my silent tears are taken as a sign of consent
and i am subject to your filthy double standard
i refuse to believe that i live in the land of the free
when distrust is my sole means of survival
when i am not free to be respected as an equal
as a woman
as a human being
good morning, america
we are the land of the lost
the land of broken dreams
broken hearts
and broken arms
america, we are not the land of the free
we are not the home of the brave
we are the home of those too coward
to lift a little girl up off the bathroom floor
the home of those too wretched
to let a broken girl escape with just a shred of her innocence
we are the land of oppression, not opportunity
we are still so far behind
that a woman cannot choose
to be seen as more than a faceless pair of tits
without being labeled a dyke
we are so involved with our own sense of self
that an entire community can watch
as a fourteen year old girl is beaten and raped
without one regard for her well being
well, i'm not a snitch either
hello, america
we are now the land of the worst
we cannot claim to be the land of the free
when i am not free to ride the bus
without fear of victimization at the next stop
i refuse to call this the land of the free
when i am not free to forget your face
without fear that i will one day need to remember it
and until those silenced can come forward
and until the violence is stopped
we will never be able to see by the dawn's early light
