
Every child dreams of America in the womb,
encased in darkness, floating toward light,
eager for freedom, waiting for clear sight.
Every child dreams of America in the womb,
encased in firm walls, tightening the hold,
eager for freedom, waiting for dreams to unfold.
We celebrate the birth of a beloved country.
We celebrate freedom to climb mountains and see
anything and everything we dream we can be.
Like a child in the womb, freedom’s birth brings
new challenges to do the right thing,
as fireworks we watch, and anthems we sing.
Like a child in the womb, freedom’s birth brings
learning to walk and talk and so much more;
to care and share, and love restore.
We celebrate the birth of a beloved country.
We celebrate rights guaranteed, but ignored,
until their loss is a wound we cannot endure.
Every child dreams of America in the womb.
Birth of nations require so much more
than we have been willing to suffer and work for.
Every child dreams of America in the womb.
Like children each detail and pleasure we note.
Like children we play instead of going to vote.
Every child dreams of America in the womb.
Living the dream means nurturing the nation
lest its freedoms, and ours, are entombed.
Every child dreams of America in the womb.
