Land of the Free

There's a poison flooding our waters

There's a sadness in the air

There's people dying just to make a living

There's people living off the dead

And I don't know where to go

I don't know what to believe

I wish I had an old radio

To sing me to sleep

Let them build up their skyscrapers

Casting shadows on the streets

Someday it won't just be their pockets

That are splitting at the seams

And I don't know where to go

I can barely breathe

I wish I had an old stagecoach

To carry, carry me

Through the land of the free

'Cause up on Wall Street, it's a rich man's prison

Endless links of golden chains

But fancy funerals, they ain't no different

Can't smell the roses from your grave

Oh but we try anyway

Yea we try, we try anyway

And God is out on holiday

The devil's drinking scotch on the beach

Neither one's got much left to say

It ain't their mess at our feet

And I don't know where to go

I don't know how to leave

I wish I had an old sailboat

To sail away

Across the sea

To the land of the free

Across the sea

To the land of the free