The Feast

Feast on me and
 take your fill.
 and when I finish giving,
 go and find someone who will.
 We are one you say, but
 who are we?
 I'm lying on the table,
 and I'm high above the trees.
 And this beast must go on and on and on...
 and nobody gives a damn.
 Take a side you say
 it's black and gray
 and all the
 hunters take the hunted
 merrily out to play.
 We are one, you say, but
 who are you?
 You're all too busy reaping
 in the things you never sown,
 and this beast must go on and on and on...
 Nobody gives a damn.
 Feast on me, and
 take your fill and
 when I finish giving,
 go and find someone who will.
 Am I talking a bit too loud?
 Am I acting a bit too proud?
 Well, it's always something,
 then I'm gone away...
 And you're all starving.
 Starving.
 You're all starving...
 You're all starving...
 All starving...