Inside my house we had forgotten now 
Inside my house we had forgotten how 
To live in the country with three white stones 
Surrounding a flag of branches and bones 
Of mirrors of contracts and signed armored clad 
Of the ways we play circus to hide what we had

They won’t tell me what I am to be an American 
I’m here but my hearts at sea, oh they won’t speak for me

And someone spoke too soon they got caught again 
And the kids they lost their breath in the revolution 
They settled for houses and for small kids 
To tell them the stories of when they were young 
The warriors they thought they’d [bad word] 
Now hide in the surface like the roots from the sun

They won’t tell me what I am to be an American 
I’m here but my hearts at sea, oh they won’t speak for me

I will stay up late and dig my own trench 
I’ll ask all the questions they never present 
And it’s sick and its vain and it’s hard to explain 
To question the role or the play of the game 
Not for your founding father or for the new born threat 
Not for your radical breach that you tend to forget 
Not for your good mother or the weight of her debt 
Not for your children at sea, but your own way to

Tell what you are to be an American 
I can’t live by your words and remain the person which I came 
They wont tell me what I am to be an American 
I’m here but I’m loosing my cool, no I won’t wait for you.