On the stealing of America by the white man |
Some people believe they're immune... With feet entrenched, how opportune One century is but a blink But long enough for minds to shrink To drying fruit of once ripe vine For what is yours---what is not mine I've never seen you in the field Or frying french fries by the yield I have pulled wagons in the sun Cleaned houses, cooked, your laundry done Be careful what you're wishing for Illegal imports man the store--- The store you visit for your food That drive-thru where you're always rude No pleasantries, no driving force No manners, haughty, no remorse 'Man the border, make them all pay--- Shoot them dead, chunk them in the clay' How dare we want a finer day--- A fighting chance, and better pay? You steal the hopes of dreams so grand In the belief you own this land With deed to plat and eyes so blind Your rights cannot be far behind For as the red man surely found Penned promises won't hold your ground And when you live the poor man's plight Embrace it, bringer of the blight Jaded, and wrapped in happenstance The universe's fateful dance Bringing full circle what we owe Through fertile harvest of the sow |