Härvest

There's a frost on the field

A tax on the yield

And a hand in your pocket

With the days gone dark

A loss in your heart

And a pit in your stomach

Would you turn against the grain?

You sowed the seed

Despite the salt

Some glutton's greed

You played your part

Your home and hearth

It falls apart

There's a frost on the field

A tax on the yield

And a hand in your pocket

With the days gone dark

A loss in your heart

And a pit in your stomach

Would you turn against the grain?

You sowed the seed

Despite the salt

Some glutton's greed

You played your part

Your home and hearth

You play your part until we give the signal

This is our harvest

This is the fruits we bear

Siloed for a profit

Or dying on the vine

Isn't this our harvest?

Isn't this our feast to share?

Wiser ones are asking themselves

Who's swinging the scythe?

There's a frost on the field

A tax on the yield

And a hand in your pocket

And a pox on the land

The manor demands

But the sickle is in your hand

There's a pox on the land

The manor demands

But the sickle is in your hand

The sickle is in your hand

Well, this is our harvest

This is the fruits we bear

Siloed for a profit

Or dying on the vine

Isn't this our harvest?

Well, isn't this our feast to share?

Wiser ones are asking themselves

Am I swinging this scythe for someone else?

Well, this is our harvest

This is the fruits we bear

Siloed for a profit

Or dying on the vine

Well, isn't this our harvest?

Well, isn't this our feast to share?

Wiser ones are asking themselves

Who's swinging the scythe?

Who's swinging it?