I walk these colored streets
wondering all kinds of shit:
who the hell has built that big blue tower?
does happiness last more than an hour?
I see people working hard,
and a few falling apart...
a few?... no... that wouldn't be that bad...
the truth is: there's dirt under the bed.
America... there we are...
our so desired, so dreamed farm...
I do have something to say to you,
and I will do it the way I should:
learn that: the world is here, and there:
home of the brave... is everywhere.
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