A man is digging in the delta 
In the dark soil with his bare hands 
To work the land for generations 
Is he a fool? 
And I am working in my garden 
To stem the tide of grass and weeds 
With the green machine and roto-tiller 
I break for lunch 
The man has planted all his seeds now 
His tired hands are black with oil 
Nothing grows 
The man is thin and hungry because he's lazy 
The seeds are sprouting in my garden 
My soft white hands are stained with blood 
Again this year 
I will reap the harvest that 
I deserve