Wrong for me this meaning of America, A song for me that few would want to hear.

I long for freedom’s, beating heart America, I long to see my neighbors breathing free.

Once we saw the Hand of God, America, once we knew the blessings of His love.

We built a dream of prosperous America, knowing true the blessings from above.

Walking in the garden with God holding our hand.

Never once, doubt of heart could have entered the picture.

Then we gave up the sturdy granite for a hand full of sand.

Departing prayer, forgetting God, avoiding all scripture.

Gone for good that righteous old America, exchanged for gold and idols made of glass.

Once we could, return to old America, but now we lust with heart’s greener than the grass.

Few still hold to rebirth of old America, but most have gone on to something new.

We can’t hold on to what died in old America, why it passed we haven’t got a clue.

We traded all the moments that we spent with God in laughter.

For a pocket full of paper and heart that’s beating faster.

We don’t know what we’re chasing, we will find out shortly after.

Our folly ends in heartache and this world is our master.

On a hill this shining star America, tarnished now a simple thing of clay.

Man found his way and voted for America, dreaming of things greater than one man.

But just like God we abandoned our America, leaving her, we chased an evil day.

Now she’s gone our once beloved America, traded for the devil’s empty plan.