Lyrics American Sport - Annette Peacock

Hangin′ out
I'm with my daughter
And we were playing with a boy
When she asked
"Hey mama,
Where have all the eagles fled?"
And so I turned and asked some people
"Hey, what′s become of our American eagle?"
And they all passed except on lady who said
"They've been killing them for profit
Shot from airplanes with machine guns
Stop demand of American sport"

In a system of private profit
Where the profit has no limit
When the gold sings
We all start to dance
Worry not
Whether the fat profiteer feels his pain
Now on the side
It's a picture
Of the father
Of our country
Stories tell
George was honest and true
He was onto revolution
Always stated his point of view
And his fan,
Betsey, gave us red, white, and blue
But the system′s
Private profit
And the profit has no limit
And they caught you by giving you less
Oh, so you know that our heroes
Are not the philosophers, the ecologists, or the artists
They′re the capitalists!
Yeah

Okay,
Capitalism
And our social conscience
Is dangerous and inevitably destructive
All the existing systems of both idealistic and unrealistic
Who when success is pursued so avidly
And symbols are imbued with security
And there's an obsession to be first rather than righteous,
You make a lot of mistakes
But temptation is often taken from the river of good intentions
And we′re developing a social conscience, I hope
And I hope that we realize
Although we are a people of different cultures
We can cooperate with each other
Because
We're all living at the same address
Care of Earth
And it′s about the need
But it ain't about the greed