You are young, America brutal in your desire Those whom assign and divide are themselves destined to be divided I find myself in the wander of your lust obsession to owning makers of fences and dams pickpockets of nation Your Children's graffiti wears itself on bombs Always you will be a mother of poets You are young, America with your proud prisons marching cowboys victories of vengeance Must we claim your hypocrisy some little bit large as our own your vast colony of mutts complicit in the mist of contrived rivalry Ironic as the beast comes to own the least part of itself as in any war the body claims cancer to its breast You are young, America the tinsel breath of your youth and vitality to all ways remain so precursor of death, self condemnation Our Children march to your events high sport and war games imbedded truths of your slick media premature as death to rebels Your mirror eyes capture those whom choose an other path place them quick in five by seven cells rotting warehouse, camp You are young, America we have loved you well and the prostitute you have all ways been kissing bullets into our brain