Great Famine to Them, Feast for Us!
This introduction just seems so bleak,
When the rest of the story has you out of your seats.
The silverscreen, though noble, wasn't meant for this cause
To bring the global populace up in arms.
My name is a question, that will make you all think for yourselves.
Is it worth taking a second look at now?
My face is an image you won't soon forget,
A picture of the people that you refuse to look at now.
Our freedom must be extravagent,
We've got to buy more than they can, and sell our souls.
This is comfort from the fruit of the labor they die for,
We've got to sell more than any, and buy, buy, buy.
Keep the manifest destiny to yourself,
Or I may be forced to eat my heart out.
I wish I had as much as you do,
Enough to fill up six bombs
That will be used to kill millions.
Oh wait, you've got that covered,
By wasting the money that could have been spent to
Buy all their children a meal.
Starvation never looked that great to me,
But if I can't help then I'll pretend not to see it.
Seeing your own ribs must be a fashion statement in that place,
Or at least that's what they tell me.
Watching your own children die must be acceptable, right?
I mean at least that's what they tell me.
Not doing anything, but that's just how it goes,
Well anyway, at least that's what they're telling me.
Not loving my own wealth enough to give it away is just wrong,
Or at least that's what they tell me.
And I love the way that they disappear from our thoughts
When we start thinking of our tiny problems.
And I love the way we only think of ourselves
When if we thought of them, there wouldn't be such a problem.
I really do.
©Ben Morse 2005
When the rest of the story has you out of your seats.
The silverscreen, though noble, wasn't meant for this cause
To bring the global populace up in arms.
My name is a question, that will make you all think for yourselves.
Is it worth taking a second look at now?
My face is an image you won't soon forget,
A picture of the people that you refuse to look at now.
Our freedom must be extravagent,
We've got to buy more than they can, and sell our souls.
This is comfort from the fruit of the labor they die for,
We've got to sell more than any, and buy, buy, buy.
Keep the manifest destiny to yourself,
Or I may be forced to eat my heart out.
I wish I had as much as you do,
Enough to fill up six bombs
That will be used to kill millions.
Oh wait, you've got that covered,
By wasting the money that could have been spent to
Buy all their children a meal.
Starvation never looked that great to me,
But if I can't help then I'll pretend not to see it.
Seeing your own ribs must be a fashion statement in that place,
Or at least that's what they tell me.
Watching your own children die must be acceptable, right?
I mean at least that's what they tell me.
Not doing anything, but that's just how it goes,
Well anyway, at least that's what they're telling me.
Not loving my own wealth enough to give it away is just wrong,
Or at least that's what they tell me.
And I love the way that they disappear from our thoughts
When we start thinking of our tiny problems.
And I love the way we only think of ourselves
When if we thought of them, there wouldn't be such a problem.
I really do.
©Ben Morse 2005