THE GOOD EARTH
It’s the milk of a whore,
mixed with the blood of Cain.
On this hard killin’ floor
full of forgotten names.
It’s that stretch of dead field
all poisoned and stained,
where they promise you work
all shackled in’ chains.
But ain’t ya born?
You been born of the good earth.
Ain’t ya born now my child,
Born of the good earth.
It’s that cruel eye of sun
up in its alkaline haze
aimed like a gun
all through the length of yer days.
It’s the freeze an’ the cold
on the catch of yer skin.
Just a coat full of holes
out in the gatherin’ winds
But ain’t ya born?
You been born of the good earth
Ain’t ya born now my son?
you been born of the good earth.
Its yer nerves all fluttery torn
an’ pumped full of caffeine
as ya pull up at the light
next to some dark limousine.
It’s that convenient store
with it’s porn magazines
an that long look in yer eyes
at the short end of yer dreams.
But ain’t ya born?
You been born of the good earth
Ain’t ya born now, my boy?
You been born of the good earth.
It’s the spoils of a war
an yer cut of the shame
with the poor gettin poor
‘neath all the wealth an the fame.
It’s that lock on the door
where yer standin’ in pain,
while some bum’s keepin’ score
on the fix of the game.
But ain’t ya born?
You been born of the good earth
Ain’t ya born now my child?
You been born of the good earth.
Born of the good earth.
