There used to be snow
On the mountain tops
Now the rivers run low
Nothing left for the crops
Where will they go
They who work the land
When all the ancestral waters
Have vanished in the sand?
Free market policies
And vanishing border lines
Replacing highland pastures
With open cut mines
No choice but to leave
A thousand years behind
City lights on the horizon
What will they find?
Billboards by the highway
Paper-thin lies
Selling progress and consumerism
As the land about them dies
Welcome to decaying sewers
And chemical smokestack plumes
The scent of green alfalfa
Dispelled by diesel fumes
Slums on the hillside
Cheap labour pool
Better learn real fast about
The sweatshop rule
Better praise the boss
With every exploited breath
So many union organisers
Gone to an early death
Fresh in from the provinces
Earning 50 cents an hour
Big profit margins
For the suits in the tower
Security forces
Breaking doors in the dead of night
Ensuring that the disappeared
Will never see the light
The gang will take their children
Fodder for the street
‘Cause you know that every jungle
Needs some easy meat
Jingles on the radio
Soap suds on the screen
And presidential candidates
Faking a scene
Now the climate is changing
Nothing left for the crops
There used to be snow
On the mountain tops