On the Range Songtext
von Libby DeCamp

The bile in the rain
Dissolves the home on the range
Destination: fork and plate
A tendon in all
We wouldn′t dare to pull
Prepared for gripe and delay

This is the year of the balded gear
And the sureness of the blade
Move down the line by undoubted design
Each person a link in the chain

And the tails no longer sway
And the grass is no longer grazed
For who'd ever think to give thanks to
The born to be aborted


One dirty peek
And it′s all we'd need
A whiff from the trucks as they pass
Meet at the gate of anaerobic fate
Just how long will this last?

They come out billions in number
Incubated and casually plundered
None bear a name, nor hold any claim
To a life, stripped of all wonder

And the tails no longer sway
And the grass is no longer grazed
For who'd ever think to give thanks to
The born to be aborted

I cannot describe the crime
That lies beneath barcode lines
Driven into green homeland
Responsible for weakening
Our once efficient hand


What is the cost of the living lost?
Deeper in each decade, questions growing
But I′ve figured it out
It is relieved by doubt
But I′ll shout within my knowing
I will shout within my knowing