(Verse)
In the land of the free, where the dreams take flight,
But reality bites, it's a perpetual fight.
Printing money for wars, the cycle spins around,
While the streets stay poor, our cries barely sound.

Politicians in suits, making deals in the dark,
But for the common folk, there's no such spark.
Empty promises, hollow words they preach,
While the people suffer, out of their reach.

(Chorus - Singing)
We print money for war,
But no dime for the poor,
American dreams shattered on the floor,
We're crying out for more.