Little
Elba, how's the sun in
South
America?
Does it shine upon
the faces of the poor?
They see in it the brilliance of
the place that's been prepared
and dwell upon the hope
of what's in store?
Or are they just like me?
Do they only see an opportunity
to complain about the heat?
And little
El ba, how's the rain in
South
America?
Does it fall upon the rooftops of the sick?
Do they thank the
Lord for coming up with such a great idea
And dream about a place beyond all this?
Or are they just like us?
Do they gripe and fuss about the
rain and mud
When they've had too much?
Cause I'm just a little jealous
Of the nothing that you have
You're unfettered by the wealth of
Of a world that we pretend is gonna last
Well I'm weary of the
spoils of my ambition
And I'm shackled by the
comfort of my couch
Well, I wish I had the courage
to deny these of myself
Start to store my treasure in the clouds
Cause this is not my home, I do not belong
Where the antelope and the buffalo roam
No, no, and I'm just a little jealous
Of the nothing that you have
You're unfettered by the wealth of
Of a world that we pretend is gonna last
They say
God's blessed us with plenty
But I say you're blessed with poverty
Because you never stop
to wonder whether
Earth is just a little better
than the land of the
free.
So I hope you're safe and dry in
South
America, because I'm feeling
pretty good in
Tennessee.
But may you never be so happy that
you forget about your home
Your home in the land of the free