For What It's Worth
Song by J Lind
Turn it up
This is my favorite part
Watch how the tiger catches the deer in the dark
It’s teeth were sharpened by the Darwinian arc
Of a million years
And hyenas laugh from their secret hiding place
As the tiger’s teeth find a purpose in it’s prey
And the helpless deer sings the song of life on Earth
But it’s still grateful to the band for what it’s worth
Light it up
The jungle set aflame
Once a month, we keep it thin to keep it tame
Cleaning up after our ancestors' mistakes
For a hundred years
And the hunter sets his sights and takes his aim
As the tiger flees from the fire man has made
And a shot rings out as the great cat hits the Earth
But it’s still praise the blood-stained land for what it’s worth
Look it up
Or look across the street
Flies on their faces and nothing on their feet
These little ones will be lucky if they breathe
For a couple years
And the women laugh from their cages in Bombay
As the children clap from Calcutta-bound freight trains
And their song is lost to the chaos of the Earth
But they still lift up holy hands for what it’s worth
And the people sing for the day their gods have made
As the bishop bows in a foreign land to pray
“Let the Lord rain down His judgment on the Earth
But I still love the heart of man—for what it’s worth”
This is my favorite part
Watch how the tiger catches the deer in the dark
It’s teeth were sharpened by the Darwinian arc
Of a million years
And hyenas laugh from their secret hiding place
As the tiger’s teeth find a purpose in it’s prey
And the helpless deer sings the song of life on Earth
But it’s still grateful to the band for what it’s worth
Light it up
The jungle set aflame
Once a month, we keep it thin to keep it tame
Cleaning up after our ancestors' mistakes
For a hundred years
And the hunter sets his sights and takes his aim
As the tiger flees from the fire man has made
And a shot rings out as the great cat hits the Earth
But it’s still praise the blood-stained land for what it’s worth
Look it up
Or look across the street
Flies on their faces and nothing on their feet
These little ones will be lucky if they breathe
For a couple years
And the women laugh from their cages in Bombay
As the children clap from Calcutta-bound freight trains
And their song is lost to the chaos of the Earth
But they still lift up holy hands for what it’s worth
And the people sing for the day their gods have made
As the bishop bows in a foreign land to pray
“Let the Lord rain down His judgment on the Earth
But I still love the heart of man—for what it’s worth”