The Bar

Does everybody in the bar fell pain?
Yeah, sure they do
Does everybody in the bar a little maimed?
Yeah, both me and you
We traded in the family farm for snake-oil
Bought into the carpetbeggar’s lies
Now we’re hanging on this cross
With these feelings of loss
Just watching the liberty boat sail on by

Does everybody in the bar feel shame?
Lord knows, I do
I guess we all feel pretty much the same
Kind of wore out by this crazy fucking zoo
The smell of napalm, with cornflakes
The chafe of killing everything that breathes
Imposing sanctions on the lady down the street
‘Till she takes the hint, and packs her bags, and leaves

Come on in here, sister, and sit a spell
You are most welcome in the bar
We may seem few, but we are many
Have you been traveling far?
The girl who brought you in here is Lakota
From Standing Rock, where they made their stand
So from Fort Yates, North Dakota
Here's a message for the man
Would you kindly get the fuck off our land?