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I see the middle kingdom between |
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Heaven and |
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EarthLike the |
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Chinese call the country of their birth |
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We all figure that our homes, our homes are set above |
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Other people than the ones, ones we know and love |
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In every place with a name |
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They play the same territorial game |
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Hiding behind the lines |
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Sending up warning signs |
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The whole wide world an endless universe |
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Yet we keep looking through the eyeglass in reverse |
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Don't feed the people but we feed the machines |
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Can't really feel what international means |
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In different circles we keep holding our ground |
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In different circles we keep spinning round and round and round |
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We see so many tribes overrun and undermined |
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While their invaders dream of lands they left behind |
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Better people, better food and better beer |
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Why move around the world when |
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Eden was so near? |
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The bosses get talking so tough |
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And if that wasn't evil enough |
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We get the drunken and passionate pride |
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Of the citizens along for the ride |
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The whole wide world an endless universe |
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Yet we keep looking through the eyeglass in reverse |
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Don't feed the people but we feed the machines |
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Can't really feel what international means |
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In different circles we keep holding our ground |
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In different circles we keep spinning round and round and |
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They shoot without shame in the name of a piece of dirt |
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For a change of accent or the color of your shirt |
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Better the pride that resides in a citizen of the world |
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Than the pride that divides when a colorful rag is unfurled |
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The whole wide world an endless universe |
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Yet we keep looking through the eyeglass in reverse |
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Don't feed the people but we feed the machines |
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Can't really feel what international means |
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In different circles we keep holding our ground |
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In different circles we keep spinning round and round and round |
