#1
Just wrote this, has to be tweaked a bit but here is the general idea

The miles that were walked
To reach this plot of land
Ripped the souls beneath the feet
And dyed the skin of this man
They settled on a rock and wretched some words from their mouths
Splitting up took different ways no one remembers those times now
But here comes the giants whose minds are chained around that man
Hanging on the cross that charles defined for them

The captian took his merry time sailing these here the seas
They told me that it would be flat but that aint the case I see
Them waves shook the hollow bow and froze my mind in its midst
Until my sense marched through the door told me to get to claiming quick


Well we called this place America a home for the free
I plead to the loonies to sell the locals beads
So we rounded up the children, told them the outta do gods deeds
they marched into the village with salvation for the beasts
Well these locals didnt comply to the materials we insist
So we pointed a pistols at their heads intendin’ to blow their minds to bits
Well the chief walked to the white man and looked him in the eye
He said I hear your paranoid politics but hear that just wont fly


Simple or perturbed turning red like a brick
The whiteman took a stricken breathe shot that Indian In the lip
He blew his bloody thoughts on the hull of this here ship
You could hear the silence break like a pin on concrete
Before we could etch a word to describe such a sight
The ship Itself burst into flames and was swalloed by the sky

The dying breathe of such a fate burned the inside of my eye
Youll never see them things unless you step out of your mind
Our dreams are bruised with things we'd rather reject than realize
Surely Columbus and his merry man didn’t pay such things any mind
So they kept on kicking to the west to manifest their diatribe

Random Verse, not really relevant to the piece:
Well you hand the man an apple that you say costs him a dime
Carved out wood substantiated by rice
Freshly picked from the reason that cubist laid aside
We paint our chapels red with insanity and lies
Well what is truth the poor man turned his head and aptly cried
Its nothing of your making and it aint something you can find
So lay your worries in the sand and dance with us tonight
#2
turns out you don't like america...
Welcome to UG...


not bad lyrics, but they didn;t make me feel anthing beyond slight drunken apathy... mind you a good ale makes me feel that.