My Land

This is the street where people live in fear
of senseless crime and poverty.
And the colour of your skin decides
if you should pay the penalty.

This is the city where only money talks,
of power gain and influence.
Where the poor stay poor, the rich stay rich
and we're still told it's coincidence.
it's the same old sad survival-dance
that we're all born with an equal chance.
But who could be so blind that they could never see

that this is my land?
I can't pretend that it's nothing to do with me.
And this is your land,
you can't close your eyes to the things you don't wanna see.

This is a country filled with greed and hate
and cops on the take are common place.
The next generation are condemned to waste
by bent politicians and magistrates.
This is a world at war for the liquid gold,
but there's still no cure for the common cold.
We raise our flags and battle cries
in the name of God and national pride.
And the lie we use to convince ourselves,
it's not our fault, it can't be helped.
Don't tell me we're so blind we cannot see

that this is my land!
I can't pretend that it's nothing to do with me.
And this is your land,
you can't close your eyes to this hypocrisy.
Yes this is my land,
I won't pretend that it's nothing to do with me.
'Cause this is our land,
we can't close our eyes to the things we don't wanna see.

Похожие новости.

We’re An American Band

(originally by Grand Funk Railroad) Like this... On the road for forty days, Last night in little rock put me in a haze. Sweet, sweet connie -- doin her act, She stole the whole show

A Mi Edad

Soy un gran falso mientras finjo la alegr?a t? un gran desconfiado cuando finges simpat?a como un terremoto en un desierto que que todo se derrumba y nadie ve que ya estoy muerto Lo

Co’N’Dorn

Он,он из желтый стали,его все ждали,он,как минимум,вечный Он,он не новый,не старый,как ни странно,он чисто сердечный Правда,его каждому надо,парень ты или баба Хотя бы встретится взглядом бл* буду Только не слушаюсь маму Нас потянуло на искусство Раз,вот

Man Who Picked The Wildwood Flower

[Spoken] Let me tell you about a song That was brought to me by a good friend of mine who's a good songwriter And everytime he brings me a song I'm always willing

Жара 77

Жара больших городов Наши дни, Москва, И даже под этими палящими лучами Она не устает перемешивать приезжих с москвичами Их с нами или нас с ними На улицах, на площадях, на подземных линиях На задних сидениях