RATS SO FAT

Rats so fat, rats so grand

feasting on our mille—

three years your slaves

and we’re nothing to you.

We’re dying to leave you,

leave for that joyous land,

that joyous joyous land,

and live out our dreams.

Rats so fat, rats so grand

feasting on our wheat—

three years your slaves

and to us you’re heartless.

We’re dying to leave you,

leave for that joyous nation,

that joyous joyous nation,

and live out our true way.

Rats so fat, rats so grand

feasting on our sprouts—

three years your slaves

and you give nothing back.

We’re dying to leave you,

leave for those joyous fields,

those joyous joyous fields,

and end all this mourning.