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 boohooing 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 hate 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