But remember you?

[joel]

I beg your pardon, ma’am— excuse me, sir,
but isn’t this America? So what
about your holy dreams, your sacrosanct
imaginings— your life, your liberty
and your pursuit of happiness? And where,
I beg, are all your need-now protest songs?
This isn’t you, America: this state
of anguished discord, fear and hate
who offers students up in war for wrongs
of terrifying sins and sends its fair
young warriors away to fight and flee
from monsters in their closets; and who ranks
its kin by date of immigration. But
remember you? I loved you as you were.