Protest Song

We live off the land

And we feed all of our children with our hands

You wake every man

With the greed of a thousand Hitlers and here's mine

And though, the race is tighter

We've only just begun to feel our fire

Now, we're coming to our senses

Now, we're coming to our senses

We work [?]

And we sow our seeds we've made into our share

You take, both our hearts

And replace them with an empty jar of bark

And though, the race is tired

We've only just begun to feel our fire

Now, we're coming to our senses

Now, we're coming to our senses

Now, we're coming to our senses

People don't talk together boys

Keep it to yourself, no

This is the land of America

The land of the free

The land of the free

The land of the free

The land of the