we are living here well
in the land of milk and honey.
sometimes we're bold,
some days are cold,
some days we make money.
we never can really tell,
these days are both slow and runny,
but whatever it is we sell
has to be something sunny,
because if it were a well
that is drained of all its water,
and if we were so bold
as to lead these lambs to slaughter,
we could not write you cold---
you are too warm for that, dear mother.
and your warmth is all we tell,
whether by tears, silence or laughter.
everyday, it is you that we sell,
mother, your land of milk and honey.
we are caught in your spell,
-son and daughter