Is This Land Still Made For You And Me?
by Jay Santos Everwood
This land's your homeland, it's not my own land,
From the Keys of Florida to the 'burbs of Portland,
From the Texas praries to the Great Lake waters;
Is this land still made for you and me?
As I was running that endless rat race;
I felt around me growin' prejudice;
I saw in this country roaring hatred;
Is this land still made for you and me?
I've roamed and rambled and I followed the footsteps
Of this country's millions a' migrant workers;
And all around me a voice was asking;
Is this land still made for you and me?
When the voice came sounding, and I was listening,
And the crowds a'screaming and fanatics roaring,
As the fog creeped in now, voices were chanting:
"Deport all immigrants you see!"
As I went walking I saw two rallies,
And on one side it said "Deport All Migrants."
And on the other side it said "Kill the poor."
Which side is meant to be for me?
In steeple shadows, on city corners,
I see my people despised as foreigners,
Get locked away, or being deported,
Is this land still made for you and me?
Nobody living can make me ashamed
Of where I come from or who I am now;
Nobody living can make me turn back
…
