The Unwilling Expatriate

(To the tune of Ray Charles' "I Can't Stop Loving You".)

I dream of Stars and Stripes --
But don't say that here.
The other exiles would
Turn red, shout, and sneer.
I want to say the Pledge --
But some might throw stones,
Or punch in honor of
All our martyr's bones.

When our flag meant
Justice and right,
Before George Bush
Doused the Statue's light,
We all were proud
Of Red, White, and Blue --
Now it has become
The badge of his coup.

I think of Lexington --
And the Fourth of July.
But in this distant land
They just make me cry.
Where Lincoln freed the slaves,
And King opened cells,
A perfect silence reigns --
Just ignore the smells.

We waited till
It was much too late
To stand up and try
To bar the gate.
In graves or jails
The outspoken lie.
We lucky ones,
Wonder, guilty, why?

I loved America --
Not for rocks and trees,
Nor wealth or happiness,
But for Liberty.
I miss my native land --
But I can't go home
Until its chains are smashed,
To be free, I'll roam.

(Or, for an old variation on the theme in prose, read Ward Moore's brilliant "It Becomes Necessary".)