Mother's Land
By Benj
Tell me of your golden gate Grazing ground of eternal fate From dirty dish to silver plate Is there room, or shall I wait? Tell me of this gracious land Endless beaches of rolling sand Creatures walking hand in hand Is there room to sit, or shall I stand? Tell me of the united one the bluest oceans, the rising sun The clear air, the endless fun Where no one's lost and no one's won. Then unmask mother's face Erase the stained industrial trace Look at where we run the race Haven't we already ruined that place?1998, Written October 11th, 2001 © on Oct 11 2001 11:27 AM PST 10 • 0 • 9
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"Tell me of your golden gate..."