This Is What America Sounds Like

### Intro – Orchestra + Trap Drums *(no chords – instrumental build)* Voice (spoken): Turn the lights up on the whole damn map. From the subway tunnels to the cornfield grass. Listen close. --- ### Hook **Chords (Hook):** C – G – D – Em This is what America sounds like, Bass in the basement, strings in the clouds like, Kids in the hallway, praying “keep us safe,” Moms in the night shift, dreams on their face. Job lines long but the beat goes on, We all just wanna bring a paycheck home. From the block to the barn to the satellite light, This is what America sounds like. --- ### Verse 1 – Jobs, Safety, Cities **Chords (Verse 1):** Em – C – G – D Yeah, It starts with a roof that don’t leak when it rains, Four walls, one lock, one last name. Call it “shelter,” Maslow in a hallway fight, Fridge half full but the water’s still right. Next comes food, next comes class, Next comes “try not to get shot on the way back.” Safety in schools, safety in streets, Metal detector beeps to a 4/4 beat. NYC: high crime, high heat, low shade, Concrete frying every unpaid day. Office space empty with a view of the bay, Whole floor leased to a brand no one can say. What’s the point of econ in a power-cut block, Political science with the doors still locked? Electrical grid talk, stock charts dance, But a kid just wants one good chance. We don’t need theory, we need doors that open, Union jobs, bridges that ain’t broken. Every color, every language in the stadium lights, Turn the policy pages into human rights. --- ### Hook **Chords (Hook):** C – G – D – Em This is what America sounds like, Bass in the basement, strings in the clouds like, Kids in the hallway, praying “keep us safe,” Moms in the night shift, dreams on their face. Job lines long but the beat goes on, We all just wanna bring a paycheck home. From the block to the barn to the satellite light, This is what America sounds like. --- ### Verse 2 – Urban / Suburban / Rural **Chords (Verse 2):** Em – C – G – D City verse: Bronx rooftops, queens in a walk-up flat, Scroll through crime stats while the train tracks rattle back. Drug deals, prostitution on the edge of the frame, But the algorithm only shows you half the pain. Suburban hook: Cul-de-sac kids on the wifi high, Two-car garage and a hollow sky. Safety looks better with a lawn so green, But the pills in the cabinet feel like a meme. Rural bridge: Dirt road radio, same three chords, Factory closed but they still thank the Lord. Town hall arguing over broadband speed, But the soil and the stream still know what we need. Everywhere you go it’s the same three needs: Home, food, water, a place to read. Then comes community, teachers paid, Then maybe talk faith in the evening shade. You can call it Democrat, call it common sense, We just want peace behind every fence. From the choir loft hymn to the TikTok rant, We’re all just saying “help if you can.” --- ### Bridge – Identity & Media **Chords (Bridge):** Am – Em – C – D *Orchestra rises, gospel choir answers lines.* Mass media ties every life to the trend, Timeline, headline, where does it end? What’s a “trending topic” but a human in a cage, What’s a “transsexual”? maybe one’s onstage— Maybe one’s writing this play you quote, Changing three laws with a song they wrote. Minority rights ain’t a side-quest drop, They’re the main story line at the center of the plot. Choir (call & response): We say: jobs! (jobs!) We say: schools! (schools!) We say: love! (love!) We say: rules (fair rules!) Rap: Black, Brown, queer in the subway roar, We deserve more than a “thoughts and prayers” war. You want unity? Start with a plate, Make sure everyone eats before it’s too late. --- ### Hook – Bigger **Chords (Hook):** C – G – D – Em This is what America sounds like, 808 thunder, violins in starlight, Marches on Main Street, sermons on Zoom, One big argument in a little back room. Job lines long but the beat goes on, We all just wanna bring a paycheck home. From the screen in your palm to the city at night, This is what America sounds like. --- ### Final Verse – Spoken / Half-sung Memo **Chords (Final Verse):** Em – C – G – D Listen— Politics ain’t magic, it’s plumbing and wire, Streetlights working, no kids under fire. It’s daycare open and a nurse on call, It’s “text me when you get there,” and they do, that’s all. It starts with a home, then the table, then school, Then a town that treats “different” as basically cool. Rural, urban, interstate line, We all log onto the same dark shine. I support harmony, unity, truth, Whether you’re sixty with scars or a wild-eyed youth. This is not left, right, red, blue at night— It’s a beat that says: Everybody deserves A life. --- ### Final Hook – Huge FF-style Ending **Chords