And my children are hungry to taste the sweet life.
Though my eyes have grown tired, their desire keeps me alive.
I will gather no more of your bitter fruit.

I don’t look east I don’t look west. I don’t understand their accent.
If it’s not soldiers it’s foreign debt.
I will gather no more of your bitter fruit.

And they want to help in America. And the guns they come from America.
But they fight against us North America.
Why are the people so quiet in America?

[Steven Van Zandt, 1987 per Little Steven]