I was washing my hands clean one day, I was rinsing them of clinging earth
In the garden under sky so gray tending seedlings at the season's turn
And I looked at my hands and thought of the legacy of human toil
Ever working in some new plot to monopolize the air and soil
To own it all
In my garden I name the weeds and I pull them and I dig the roots
If a plant cannot meet my needs I won't offer it an inch of room
And I nurture my chosen seed and I emphasize my role
On the fruit of my labor feed on illusion of my own control
To own it all, consume it all
Contain it all, create it
To own it all
To own it all
Own it all
Own
To own it all
Own it all
To own it all
To own it all
To own it all, consume it all
Contain it all, create it