Here we sit upon the fringe We'll break the bread and start the binge again Lead me to some past to follow Raise my glass and toast to swallowing But this proud land is not real You know they feed up on the weak Not on the wheat It seems to be Tuned in are the wide-eyed screaming Sounds without a meaning just a trend Sow your seed and pass the bag We've raised the corn and now the flag, amen But this proud land is not real You know they feed upon the weak Not on the wheat It seems to be On any nameless street The clothes are on the line The dogwood's blooming And the paper's right on time Black and white is read to us To feed the hand that feeds on us again Sell the pride and wear a grin Cause happy days are here again But this proud land is not real You know they feed upon the weak Not on the wheat It seems to be