The child lay on the yellow sands
Got nothing to do
Sometimes the tears flowing out of their eyes
Shouted, calling their mama
"Mama, mama", this is a fool
Shouting, screaming... What kind of lives is it?
"Mama, mama", this is a fool
Shouting, screaming... What kind of lives is it?
They got the blood on their lips, ears and the body
And some guys close them slowly
Schutzhelme, spectacle, walkie-talkie
Walking with a full face of cruelty
With the gun on their pockets
America, America
Please, hear us when call
You got great artists
You got Bermuda
You got guns on your hands
You got freedom of speech
You got great beaches and malls
And I knew the English dudes was kind to us
But now an Englishman abroad is just a US stooge
So take this child and hold them closely
Take this child to the moral high ground
Where they can look down on the bigots and bully boys
Slugging it out in the yard.
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