Then my grinning nephews all rush in sayin' "Good mornin', Uncle Sam."
Then they all gather 'round me, and play their fifes and drum,
And we all sing "God Bless America; F*ck All the Other Scum!"
Oh, sometimes I wake up in the morning', all this money in my hand,
And there's all these gold-toothed financiers screaming, "Sam, you're the Man!!"
Then I go out and read the paper; check out the fourth estate,
And read all the news that's fit to print and everything's just great!
Then I got out and take a walk, make my way down town
And feel all the suspicious glances of faces black and brown.
I don't think that they like me much; oh, not the way they should.
Can't they get it through their heads that what I do is for their own good?!
This land ain't their land. This land is my land.
From the Wall Street canyons to the Silicon Valley,
From Alaskan beaches to the Rio Grande,
This land was made for the Man!
Oh, sometimes I wake up in the mornin', and I don't know who I am.
Then my pin-striped nephews all rush in screamin' "Get up and get at it, Uncle Sam."
Then they all gather 'round me, and they play their fifes and drum,
And we all sing "God Bless America, Land of the Dollar and the Gun!"
Contributed by Riccardo Venturi - 2005/9/5 - 16:56
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