| Let America be America again
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| Let it be the dream it used to be
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| Let it be the pioneer on the plain
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| Seeking a home where he himself is free
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| (America never was America to me.)
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| Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
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| Let it be that great strong land of love
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| Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
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| That any man be crushed by one above
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| (It never was America to me.)
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| O, let my land be a land where Liberty
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| Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath
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| But opportunity is real, and life is free
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| Equality is in the air we breathe
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| (There's never been equality for me
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| Nor freedom in this «homeland of the free.»)
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| Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
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| And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
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| I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart
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| I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars
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| I am the red man driven from the land
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| I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
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| And finding only the same old stupid plan
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| Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak
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| I am the young man, full of strength and hope
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| Tangled in that ancient endless chain
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| Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
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| Of grab the gold! |
| Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
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| Of work the men! |
| Of take the pay!
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| Of owning everything for one’s own greed!
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| I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil
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| I am the worker sold to the machine
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| I am the Negro, servant to you all
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| I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
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| Hungry yet today despite the dream
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| Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
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| I am the man who never got ahead
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| The poorest worker bartered through the years
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| Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
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| In the Old World while still a serf of kings
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| Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true
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| That even yet its mighty daring sings
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| In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
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| That’s made America the land it has become
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| O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
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| In search of what I meant to be my home--
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| For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore
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| And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea
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| And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
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| To build a «homeland of the free.»
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| The free?
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| Who said the free? |
| Not me?
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| Surely not me? |
| The millions on relief today?
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| The millions shot down when we strike?
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| The millions who have nothing for our pay?
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| For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
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| And all the songs we’ve sung
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| And all the hopes we’ve held
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| And all the flags we’ve hung
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| The millions who have nothing for our pay--
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| Except the dream that’s almost dead today
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| O, let America be America again--
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| The land that never has been yet--
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| And yet must be--the land where every man is free
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| The land that’s mine--the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME--
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| Who made America
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| Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain
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| Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain
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| Must bring back our mighty dream again
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| Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
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| The steel of freedom does not stain
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| From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives
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| We must take back our land again
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| America!
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| O, yes
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| I say it plain
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| America never was America to me
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| And yet I swear this oath--
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| America will be!
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| Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death
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| The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies
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| We, the people, must redeem
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| The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers
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| The mountains and the endless plain--
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| All, all the stretch of these great green states--
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| And make America again!
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| Make America again!
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| Let America be America again |