On the bloody shirts of the slain
We gathered in evenings; were paintings scenes
Of tomorrow's happiness of the world
So, our flags were born
Old rituals mundane. Symbolic functions of our discontent
Let all laments end. Our mental shackles; [is] their common sense
We now understand
That our name's a hiss, that eerie echo that climbs the abyss
You let it sink in
Moments before your next pointless shift
Single out which new dead-ends to carry
Or choose the path ... of a Revolutionary
And all those times we lost heart
All those times we felt desperate, detached & numb
And all those times we lost heart
All those times we felt obsolete, detached & numb
Always the memory of her hand
The memory of her hand
In that last barricade
Defending our common land
Through this desert of the Real
Arm yourselves with the Optimism of the Will
Give me cover with your shield
Rise above, the ruins of Fear
Because our homeland is all the roads
That on their side sleep the dead of our struggle
Because our homeland
Is all the roads
That on their side sleep
They sleep
The dead of our struggle