The land created me. I'm wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I'm more at home in the vacant lots.

Sailing round the world in a dirty gondola oh, to be back in the land of Coca-Cola!

This land is your land and this land is my land, sure, but the world is run by those that never listen to music anyway.

And they shall come from the cities of Judah, and from the places about Jerusalem, and from the land of Benjamin, and from the plain, and from the mountains, and from the south, bringing burnt offerings, and sacrifices, and meat offerings, and incense, and bringing sacrifices of praise, unto the house of the LORD.

I'm inconsistent, even to myself.

Come mothers and fathers Throughout the land, And don't criticize What you can't understand