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