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Slim Cessna's Auto Club
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This Land Is Our Land Redux
From San Francisco to Rhode Island
We hear an ached voice saying it's our land
And we do thank you for your gift given
We take your highways, hack them to ribbons
What bits of ribbon? Stuff them in our ears
Block out the voices calling you and me.
Our voices, our calyces
We'll shout it to the sky
Our voices, we're fakers, we're makers
Make this alright!
We're making us alright!
Make us alright! (x6)
You're going to Christi, to North Dakota
Good people chanted that it's all over
With broken ribbons we filled the valleys
Because they're endless we soak up the Gulfstream
Grab ribbon highways into our cannons
We aim and fire in cold blood sky
Our voices, our cannons
We'll shout 'em to the sky
Our voices, we're makers, we're fakers
Make us alright! (x7)
Please make us alright!
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Please make this our land!
Make this our land! (x17) (Praise to our land!)
Make this alright! (x14) (Praise to God's land!)
We make this our land!
Just as You told us
There's one more river
You're doing more after New York City
Yes, New York City
There is a steeple
Shadowed with people
No end to skyways
No redwood forests
No golden valleys
This land is sold
Our voices, our calyces
We'll shout them to the sky
Our voices, we'll make this
We'll make this, make this our land
Make this our land! (x30) (Make this all right!) (x3)
WHOO (x9)
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