There's a killing to be made in cotton
The old times are not forgotten
People just find new fields
(Backs are broken for the yield)
There's a killing to be made in cotton
The old times are still rotten
Men still slave away in the yard
(Progress hasn't gone that far)

Wake up sir and see just what they see
Still forced labor in this land of plenty
Gonna try to provide for each of their loved ones
They don't stay in line because of your big guns
The bright sun don't tan your pale complextion
What this world needs is a grand insurrection
Of the masses, of the people who don't have
Action not violence the cheering of the sad
Cross the border north to pick a bunch of apples
Spend eight hours of your day high up on the scaffolds
Cleaning a statue that claims to stand for freedom
Look at the place now, what have we become?
Or maybe the question is what have we always been?
A nation and a people drowning in their own sin
Yeah, drowning in their own sin

There's a killing to be made in cotton
The old times are not forgotten
People just find new fields
(Backs are broken for the yield)
There's a killing to be made in cotton
The old times are still rotten
Men still slave away in the yard
(Progress hasn't gone that far)

Some day, maybe
We will find the way
And every man will live as well
As I do today
Some day maybe
They'll find the price to pay
And every woman will eat as well
As I did today
Some day, maybe
Some day, maybe

We can't sit back and act like we don't know
Gotta do our part to see all of this go
Maybe they'll believe that Jesus loves this nation
If all men are treated well regardless of their station
The masses of humanity have always had to suffer
But maybe just this once we could try to make it better
Every step at a time, give up the cheese and the wine
And I no don't believe tomorrow will make it all fine