Gino Vannelli

For every just man mocked and killed
For every drop of black contagion spilled
This is my house
This is my evil
For every battle lost and won
The spangled banners flapping in the sun
This is my blood
This is my people
The black drums leaking in their graves
The tin cans rocking on the arctic waves
For every child the streets will claim
The curse that rushes through her tiny veins
For every rose that wilts away
I die a little more each day
Just a little more each day
For every field of wasted grain
The rockets standing 'neath the western plains
This is my greed
This is my glory
For every fist raised to the sky
The crimes of hate our young sons glorify
For every mouth that yearns for bread
The heart of stone proclaiming
God is dead