The Free

I am a stranger in this land
That once, I wished, my home.
The familiar is shrouded,
The Paths are overgrown.
 
Our ancestors were liars.
And Uncle Sam is drunk.
Lady Liberty is acting.
Her holy land is sunk.
 
The flaming torch of promise
Has set our house aflame.
The freedom of our fathers,
Is empty of its name.
 
Where there was opportunity,
Person-hood to be sewn,
Live strangers among ashes;
A state of ghosts and bone.