Here we sit upon the fringe
We'll break the bread and start the binge again
Lead me to some past to follow
Raise my gla** and toast to swallowing
But this proud land is not real
You know they feed upon the weak
Not on the wheat
It seems to be
Tuned in are the wide-eyed screaming
Sounds without a meaning just a trend
Sow your seed and pa** the bag
We've raised the corn and now the flag, amen
But this proud land is not real
You know they feed upon the weak
Not on the wheat
It seems to be
On any nameless street
The clothes are on the line
The dogwood's blooming
And the paper's right on time
Black and white is read to us
To feed the hand that feeds on us again
Sell the pride and wear a grin
'Cause happy days are here again
But this proud land is not real
You know they feed upon the weak
Not on the wheat
It seems to be