Under the parasol, the magistrate sings the madrigal and shields his face From the man who sells his madness by way of the gun - Outside the manor yard on the crippled street Young girls sell their bodies for bread to eat Stare the corner down and say so we meet again But somewhere the people rise and break out in song Their voices are carrying them, And I would but the feet on my souls are gone From the night they came in They came in trucks with their iron wrath Driving this country to its dying breath But it's never enough for the tyrant and his cattle Let it go (9 times) And there he sits, the self-crowned king, In his bird bath, just rearranging his things When he hears the songs high over head He glares at the sky in his disbelief Throws a fit and splashes the bath empty And orders his generals to aim higher Let it go (12 times) Let it go (11 times)