-
That feeling of a soul collapsed.
That feeling when your fingers crack.
From the work you do, when your work is crap.
To carry the world upon your back.
-
That feeling of a day undone.
When your day is done, what have you won?
When comes the time, will you turn and run?
Or will you march along to another's drum?
-
That feeling of an outstretched hand.
I'll brandish my pen, and brand this land.
We'll rule this earth until it's sand.
Until we fall, until we're damned.
-
'Till then I offer my helping hand
'Till then I have but one demand.
We march along to a brand new rhythm
With brothers beside, in a brand new kingdom.
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