The grapes of wrath are ripe
and we're all drunk off the wine
we'd get shovels and picks and rebuild '66
but theres nowhere to go this time

They say 'stay gold' but we all grow old
with stories left untold
Ive got miles to go before i sleep
and i carry a heavy load

the ghost of Tom Joad is still trying to fight
his soul my shadow and his cause still the right
look into their eyes ma its me that you'll see
im a travelin soldier seems like the last of the breed

3rd world is our world and its second to none
like russian roulette with a loaded mag in the gun
they take their chances im just takin' my time
lonely vagabond gypsy
still walkin the line

then Atlas shrugged
and the world fell down
no one made a sound
when it hit the ground

(c) 2011 CJG