Land Of The Free Andrew Peterson

Little Elba, how's the sun in South America?
Does it shine upon the faces of the poor?
Do 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 Elba 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
And 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