|
I don't mind stealing bread |
|
From the mouths of decadence |
|
But I can't feed on the powerless |
|
When my cup's already overfilled, |
|
But it's on the table |
|
The fire is cooking |
|
And they're farming babies |
|
While slaves are working |
|
Blood is on the table |
|
And the mouths are choking |
|
But I'm growing hungry |
|
I don't mind stealing bread |
|
From the mouths of decadence |
|
But I can't feed on the powerless |
|
When my cup's already overfilled |
|
But it's on the table |
|
The fires cooking |
|
And they're farming babies |
|
While the slaves are all working |
|
And it's on the table |
|
The mouths are choking |
|
But I'm growing hungry |
|
I'm going hungry |
