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while they're starving in a foreign land do the dishes in the sink scoop the grease-trap take a drink clean plate club keeps us alive every time we dumpster dive and from the dumpster to the grave we eat your trash and misbehave we all wallow in loneliness then wonder why we're so depressed digging through your toxic waste we find the crumbs to suit our taste our guts are an abysmal cave from the dumpster to the fucking grave digging through your toxic waste we find the crumbs to suit our taste our guts are an abysmal cave from the dumpster to the fucking grave and from the cradle to the end the pigeons are our closest friends we'll forage always after dark then chill with squirrels down in the park from the dumpster to the stench fine dining on a city bench with gourmet finds it must be true that america is paved with food and in the gutter where we lay Letras de cancionesno health care, not a dollars pay we'll take our food from garbage cans while they're starving in a foreign land so from the dumpster to the grave we'll never shower, sometimes shave we'll never fucking wash our clothes all stinking drunk at punk rock shows digging through your toxic waste we find the crumbs to suit our taste our guts are an abysmal cave from the dumpster to the fucking grave From Letras Mania