We know the quiver of the cotton field
We’ve heard the timbre of the strike of steel to steel
We feel the scrape of plates as they slide over our last meal
and read “My God, deliver us from evil”
“My God, deliver us from evil”

We’ve loved the ones who aren’t for love
We’ve kissed their foreheads in the grave
We’ve knelt in thorns and left our flowers to decay
We say, “Our sons, they died among the brave”
“Our sons, they died among the brave”

We’ve called it the breakdown of the mind
We’ve called them the ghosts that run this country blind
We’ve rattled all our keys and think of treason every time
and yet we built the barricades we climb
We built the barricades we climb

The madonna sheds a tear of blood, it trickles down her cheek
The girls at home pour prayers upon the ancient holy street
and honored men return again to the exact same thing to eat
Well, what’s to eat?

It all tastes the same, when it goes right down
like the tragic clown, it falls right down
On the battle ground, we hear no sound
Without the sound of violence

The soldier rubs a tear of blood that’s fallen down his cheek
and ma and pa hear nothing of the horrors he has seen
While the captains ring their servant men “pour me another drink”
Well, what’s to drink?

It all tastes the same, when it goes right down
Like the tragic clown, it falls right down
On the battle ground, we hear no sound
Without the sound of violence