Text:
Chuck Ragan Feast Or Famine

built a common masquerade Don?t cry if you?ve never seen the rain Go back to where your memory served and recognize the pain Don?t drink the water war will bring Or

Hold tight, Geraldine, I need to say what I mean. Time's gone by for so long and I've seen all the wrongs that I've done. Since we have yelled and stomped

Cut the line I?ve heard the rest You?ll never get me answering To the cold hand of the dying man Bred to take and to rape what the leavers left Oh come

Some days we're ripped and torn away From the shore and tossed to a watery grave Set adrift in the depths of the drink in the hands of the gods we curse

of those mountains we see, to find peace, and die up there. Do you work? Do you slave? Breaking your back every day Whether for food, or whether for pay Or

Where are the ones who carry the guns to the far away lands with the blackened suns from the smokened narrow minds. The half-truth trails and the holy