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