Identity Crisis In America

Bill Nye sings his death song for America.

I cannot find the quote, so any help with attribution would be appreciated, but the gist is:

Guess what? This time, you are the Indians.

Word:



You finally found the mainstream
In the middle of your life
You tapped into a vein
Of endless gold chains
Now you’re locked up tight
Tearing down the middle of it
Splitting it right in half
Bobbing up and down the waves
Like a runaway slave
On a huck finn raft

Chorus:
Take your wife
Take your family
Take your gun
Running through the woods
And the burned out neighborhoods
Looking for someone
A warrior of your tribe
A place you can hide
’til the war has begun
’cause in the fields before the flood
You’ll be spilling blood
Like a native son

Where you gonna run to
There ain’t no underground
If only you could fly
You’d cut across the sky
Like a rifle round
Oh, who are your people
And where is your homeland
’cause they’re dying side by side
At the river of pride
Where we tried to take a stand

Chorus twice

In the fields before the flood
You’ll be spilling blood
Like a native son

(h/t to Alvie for the musical reference)