It's Thanksgiving day, and the people have gathered To break bread with their loved ones, while away the hours Soon we'll bid happy farewell, to this God awful year in which All things turned backwards, a stampede of fear As we honor a dinner, between unlikely friends The irony lays bitter, true means and true ends As the Northlands play host, to a familiar feast Prospectors gorge, on Indian greif And there's a long black snake, headed across the West She's got black sludge in her belly, steel across her chest She's brutal and she's careless, making canyons out of cracks But the money flows in behind her, and covers up her tracks Once the British were new, to this beautiful land And one long harsh winter, saw Plymouth half dead Now their children's grandchildren, in greeds blood red robes Have forgotten who helped them, in that first bitter cold And there's a long black snake, headed across the West She's got black sludge in her belly, steel across her chest She's brutal and she's careless, making canyons out of cracks But the money flows in behind her, and covers up her tracks Who was it who helped them, when spirits were shattered And on Thanksgiving Day, with whom they first gathered