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
