We come from the valley
And we take to the hills
We’ll fight for the right to be right
And the need to be free
We gather in silence
And sharpen our steel
And dream of the day that our ship
We’ll come hollering in
I did have a brother
So vile and so mean
He stole my young bride one fine morn'
While I toiled at his field
And I did have a mother
So pale and so dim
Her dresses all torn by the kneeling
All torn at the seams
What need have I for summers?
What need have I for peace?
For brides that betray me?
For mothers that weep?
Now you are my brothers and you are my means
My mothers, my sisters, my keepers, my wings
So we come from the mountains
And we take to the fields
We’ll bring this sad town to its knees
We’ll piss in their waters
And burn all their seeds
We’ll rage, we won’t age and we’ll lead
We‘re just what this old world needs (δις)
