I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind
In the struggle for power
Not one man's voice will sound
For the foundation of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground
They want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind
They'll be ploughing down the White House
And replanting for next year
Ploughing down the White House
And replanting for next year
Neil Young - Last Of His Kind Lyrics
Neil Young - Last Of His Kind Lyrics
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I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind
In the struggle for power
Not one man's voice will sound
For the foundation of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground
They want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind
They'll be ploughing down the White House
And replanting for next year
Ploughing down the White House
And replanting for next year
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind
In the struggle for power
Not one man's voice will sound
For the foundation of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground
They want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind
They'll be ploughing down the White House
And replanting for next year
Ploughing down the White House
And replanting for next year
Writer: Neil Young
Copyright: Lyrics © Hipgnosis Songs Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Hipgnosis Songs Group