One hundred hammers blazing in the sun,
The harmonies of the banished ones.
Along the tower the guard looks on,
His rifle drawn, trigger finger numb.
Along the road, echoes the endless song,
As a nation rises up, a hundred hammers sound off.
What does it take to pound it into dust?
I want to pound it into dust.
Broke these chains, exchanged for razorblades,
Cut to length and tied it off and still the hammers sound off.
The sum of all fears made these jailhouses homes,
They cinder blocked and razor wired them all.
A grand pause freezes the courtroom, verdict's handed down,
Ears bleed at the gavels final sound.
The general's seeing ghosts,
He shuts his eyes and footsteps close.
'Cause everyone's a criminal.
Have you been unconscious of
The battle cries, the trumpet calls?
Can you hear the voices of...
The violins explode? The hammer hits crescendo,
The symphony is composed.
When every note's a lie, everything goes.