This is the day which the lord hath made
I've ran with the hare and hunted with the hounds
All those hardy years I've lied to myself
Holding the strings and the shackles
And running the world and the people
They own the machines and the underling
Who whip our landscape and squeeze the tears out
They live in cities and from their concrete booths
They keep on watching and just give a damn
Tearing down the innocent
Holding the strings and the shackles
And running the world and the people