Simone White Great Imperialist State
there's a farmer in a distant country
working on the land
a hat upon his head
and a shovel in his hand
till the soil, plant the seed
wait awhile, cut the leaf
and send another cup of tea to me
i'm a spoiled child
of the great imperalist state
i cannot kill my meat
nor grow the food upon my plate
i've never walked a mile to the well
when the tap runs dry to tell
what will become of you and me
what will become of us?
who will give us trust?
will you believe me
when i say i never loved
profiting from your pain,
that i felt shamed
when i looked the other way?
woke up this morning
the revolution knocking down my door
those capitalist pigs
no, they don't live here anymore
slipped out the back door,
into my car
how far can you drive?
how far?
there's a farmer in a distant country
working on the land
food turned into flowers
for the uptown flourist stand
but you saved, another paid
to turn his soil into sand
the world will not deliver on demand
what will become of us?
who will give us trust?
will you believe me
when i say i never loved
profiting from your pain,
that i felt shamed
when i looked the other way?
