Hunger Strike - Seventh Day Slumber

I don’t mind stealing bread from the mouths of decadents

I can’t feed on the powerless when my cups already overfilled

But it’s on the table;

the fire’s cooking

And they’re farming babies;

while slaves are all working

Blood is on the table;

their mouths are all choking

I’m going hungry

I don’t mind stealing bread from the mouth of decadents

I can’t feed on the powerless when my cups already overfilled

But it’s on the table;

the fire’s cooking

And they’re farming babies;

the slaves are all working

Blood is on the table;

their mouths are all choking

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah…

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah…

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah…

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah…

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry…

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah

I don’t mind stealing bread;

oh I don’t mind

Oh… I don’t mind stealing bread;

oh I don’t mind

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah…

I’m going hungry;

I’m going hungry yeah…