What do you see?
A land taken by zeros?
More zeros than you’ll ever know?
Taken by money changers
That take all they want
In exchange for their soul?
If that’s all that you see
You’ve only read headlines
In the red letter press
This isn’t your land
This isn’t my land
This is my father’s house
And he’ll see you to the door
If you think you’re any better
If you’ve got the nerve to think
You’re owed a damn thing
Get out you bastards
You never lived here
You only came when invited
To feast on his generosity
There’s no gates of gold
Just a home at the end of a road
Lived in and old
It’s worn down and dusty
Broken and dirty
But we’ve kept it clean
You can’t buy your way in
And you won’t take a thing
On the day that you leave
The road is overgrown and wild
It is the involuntary path
Of the newborn child
Both desired and yet unplanned
It will never be your land
It will never be my land
From the mountain
To the sea
As far as eye or foot may roam
It will always be his land
This is my father’s home
