Oh say can you see,
by the blood in the streets,
that this place doesn't smile,
on you colored child.
Who's blood build this land,
with sweat and their hands?
But you'll die in this place ,
and your memory's erased
Oh say does this truth,
hold any weight?
This is not the land of the free,
but the home of the slave.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario