We walk alone until the end of night.

Another life is swinging in the breeze.
These southern trees have the strangest fruit.

If you follow the path that's straight and narrow,
Go hand in hand because our roads are paved with broken arrows

Our fathers plant arms in foreign soil.
Our brothers die and no one knows
Where it ends (it ends between the cross hairs)
All lies weave a thousand deaths around us.


We've been waiting to receive the promised land.
We can wait no more, we must stand and make the promised land.