Thus is America

Thus is America—so he said

with soul in his nodding head;

shot down, shot down, down,

nothing more, nothing less,

so run you bastards run! run!

from the odour of the gun—

just run, run with your pumping

hearts in hand—run with the

silent death surround—just run,

just run, for there is nothing 

more to say but thus is America,

thus is the world, thus is the

grieving parents tears washed

up on the shining shore of god’s 

bleeding promised land of hope.