Oh say, can you see
over here, look at me.
I’m a flag at half-mast,
a broadcast, a warning,
mourning every morning,
noon, and night.
Rights, wrongs, and songs
for the dead
play in your head
as I sag toward land
and you kneel, or you stand
there hating, berating,
deprecating life itself.
Put me back on the shelf
and listen with intention,
dissention was the point
of this joint from the start.
Open your heart, pay attention
and start learning,
we’re all yearning to be free,
now stop looking at me.