on a dark street a black man walks to work
his name is Nathan, he’s wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt
and, for the record, he looks a little like the object of the search
+++ in the land of the free, hail to the chief
+++ home of a hateful curse..

when policemen order Nathan not to move,
he obeys them, he’s done nothing, has nothing to prove,
and they beat him, though he begs them, “check my pockets for I.D.”
+++ in the land of the free, hail to the chief
+++ home of a hateful curse…
+++++ the commission held a hearing on the case
+++++ voiced their sadness and regret, what a terrible mistake,
+++++ was the outcome ever in question? they found no one was to blame
+++++ in the land of the same old, same old, same old game..

and the Klansman in his snow suit doesn’t frighten me by half
as the blindness of a notion, and the smugness of a laugh
brother Nathan, what reaction if the colors were reversed?
+++ in the land of the free, hail to the chief
+++ home of the how much better than it used to be?
+++ in the land of the free, God shed His grace on thee,
+++ home of a hateful curse…