Swing down with a cold-hearted hand of the wood
As you watch little of our meekest desires
And we hold on to even less of our intrinsical selves.
Walk past, shoulder brush, electric sky
Did we ever see that it has been replaced?
Did we ever look up to protect what is ours?
Swing down with a warm-blooded axe of the steel.
Still as you cry.
Still as you die.
What a day to be free.