Fight this ingrown nail,
Sinking into congressional flesh,
Infected to the bone,
America, the free for the bourgeoisie,

America, the free for the bourgeoisie,

America, the free for the bourgeoisie,

America the free,
Oh baby!
America the free,
My lady!
Well maybe,
We're crazy,
Oh baby!
America, the free for the bourgeoisie,

America, the free for the bourgeoisie,

America, the free for the bourgeoisie.

There will come a time,
You'll realize the nail,
That is still ingrown,
Has cut a divide,
Between the ultra-rich,
And the ***** low class.
Maybe then, you'll begin,
Begin to think: America,
The free for the bourgeoisie,

America, the free for the bourgeoisie,

America, the free for the bourgeoisie.

The palindrome falls on shadowed riots,
clamoured mediocrity
and fever of falsified truths-
hyper-normalised until we’re writhing
in animatronic snake oil.

What’s worse, the hysteria or the disease?

Over-indulge the fascists
kiss their fists as they flail in cognitive dissonance-
white knuckles dragging to the rhythm of another media blag.

Patriotism cradles their fear and wraps it in red, white, and blue;
a stifled tricolour vision,
bathed in sanctified blood-clotted volition.
They’ll never let them come clean
they need their repugnance,
and inability to see that hope is an option
but the disparity is always just a news broadcast away.