Hands Off or Die Songtext
von McCarthy

Around the table sat the people
Some were eating, some were starving
For there was never quite enough for each to have a share
Everyday there was a murder
Or a knifing with someone shouting
Get your hands off, you bastard
It′s my food you're eating
That′s nothing, mother's soul
Some blamed the blacks
The women didn't even get a looking
Everyday an insane scramble just to get enough They would rather kill someone than let somebody get too much
The wise watched them and they argued
About the meaning of these things
Some said the pittance should be shared out equally
But some others said it proved man was evil
As they tucked into their enormous share
But the wisest of them said
Still there′s enough to go around
The mad scramble will continue
Fight to bring the system down