I sing the song of the dandelion
The diaspora of immigrants
Little seeds traveling
Traveling to a strange land they soon shall call home
Sprouting into plants of neither here nor there
I sing the song of the chameleon
Flipping who they are in the blink of an eye
Switching from their mother tongue
To the ways of America
Slowly, they shall blend into one and the same
I sing the song of the marigold
Each petal its own unique flower
But together
They are one
They are America
For America, has always been the land of all
The land of promise
The land of dreams
The land of everything you could ever want
If you possess the will to do so
But times have changedÂ
Nowadays, the dandelions have been locked out
Their seeds, slowly wilting away
Dying, before they have a chance to grow
The people who exile the dandelions
Forget they too, came from them
Nowadays, the marigolds are plucked
Each petal thinks it can become its own flower
The others too different to be with them
Each petal had different hues
Different shades
But together they were
One
I sing the song of America today
The song incomplete
Without the accompaniment of all
For America is nothing without its people
The colors of our skin
Blend together into red, white, and blue
For each petal is different
Each chameleon speaks a different speech
Each seed sprouts from somewhere
But we all see the same stars
When we look to the sky
We all swell with pride when we see our garden filled with flowers of all kind
For at the core of our being
We see
America
At the core of America
We see
Us
