From San Francisco to Rhode Island We hear an ached voice saying it’s our land And we do thank you for your gift given We take your highways, hack them to ribbons What bits of ribbon? Stuff them in our ears Block out the voices calling you and me.
Our voices, our calyces We’ll shout it to the sky Our voices, we’re fakers, we’re makers Make this alright! We’re making us alright! Make us alright! (x6)
You’re going to Christi, to North Dakota Good people chanted that it’s all over With broken ribbons we filled the valleys Because they’re endless we soak up the Gulfstream Grab ribbon highways into our cannons We aim and fire in cold blood sky
Our voices, our cannons We’ll shout ’em to the sky Our voices, we’re makers, we’re fakers Make us alright! (x7) Please make us alright! Please make this our land! Make this our land! (x17) (Praise to our land!) Make this alright! (x14) (Praise to God’s land!)
We make this our land! Just as You told us There’s one more river You’re doing more after New York City Yes, New York City There is a steeple Shadowed with people No end to skyways No redwood forests No golden valleys This land is sold
Our voices, our calyces We’ll shout them to the sky Our voices, we’ll make this We’ll make this, make this our land Make this our land! (x30) (Make this all right!) (x3)