A man is digging in the delta 

In the dark soil with his bare hands 

To work the land for generations 

Is he a fool? 

And I am working in my garden 

To stem the tide of grass and weeds 

With the green machine and roto-tiller 

I break for lunch 

The man has planted all his seeds now 

His tired hands are black with oil 

Nothing grows 

The man is thin and hungry because he's lazy 

The seeds are sprouting in my garden 

My soft white hands are stained with blood 

Again this year I will reap the harvest that I deserve