Bite The Hand

With a little faith we could raise the land
With a little hope we could move as planned
With a little faith we could raise the land
With a little hope we could move as planned
Farm the ghetto up, feed the famine down
With our nose to the grindstone, ear to the ground
Find a steady job, build a happy home
Farm a steady crop then depose the throne
We could irrigate thirst quenching lake
Make a fertile place thus the desert spake
Spill the feathers up, slash the silk
Might as well stop boo hooing over all that spilt milk
Empty tramp, screaming eye
Seething lip, stop wondering why
Butter mountains here, better motivate
It’s getting late, assassinate that hype
Move against the grain, co co co co commotion
Before a global war we’d better bridge the ocean
Just like an open wound that forever bleeds
Like an open plain in scattered seeds
Or the foolish man believes all he reads
He begs, he pleads