At the center of a holy mess
We encase the realm with pavement
Scheme, breed and shit
And then feed off the dead
Then, we're to be delivered
To a promise land
That holy tomes had said we're owed
To just do it again

So whistle while you work
And then shuffle home to bed
Pry open god's empty stomach
Lay down your tired head
It's in your destiny
To shit out two or three kids
Remove yourself from the world around
With a car and mini-mansion

This is your empire!
This is your carved slice of the earth!
This is what you're owed!
So stand tall and reach
From sea to shining sea
And envelop everything

So whistle while you work
And then shuffle home to bed
Pry open god's empty stomach
Dreaming of the life you live...

(With your feet
You walk on the backs
Of an entire world of indigenous meek
Your legs tremble
Standing always attentive
To a system perpetuated
By greed
This chest and arms of ours
Is the blood and brawn
Of a continuing slaves world
And this head
Is what convinces us
To never give a damn...)