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 the slaves are working The blood is on the table And their 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 fire is cooking And they're farming babies While the slaves are working The blood is on the table And their mouths are choking