| We are your shield, the line in the sand
|
| We take your bullets and we make your stand
|
| A scatter shot payment
|
| For each and every sin
|
| Through storms of lead
|
| We’ve screamed and bled
|
| «Don't tread on me», she said
|
| We’re all unclean from all I’ve seen
|
| And God wash this from my dreams
|
| We’re mice and men and might have beens
|
| Our heavy hearts beating like thunder
|
| The bastard son’s brought home again
|
| Our heart beats still we’re six feet under
|
| Nobody knows the trouble we’ve been
|
| Or if we’ll ever get back again
|
| A scatter shot prayer
|
| God save us and Amen
|
| Through storms of lead
|
| We’ve screamed and bled
|
| «Don't tread on me», she said
|
| We’re all unclean from all I’ve seen
|
| God wash this from my dreams
|
| We’re mice and men and might have beens
|
| Our heavy hearts beating like thunder
|
| The bastard son’s brought home again
|
| Our heart beats still we’re six feet under
|
| Through storms of lead
|
| We’ve screamed and bled
|
| «Don't tread on me», she said
|
| We’re all unclean from all I’ve seen
|
| And God wash this from my dreams
|
| We’re mice and men and might have beens
|
| Our heavy hearts beating like thunder
|
| The bastard son’s brought home again
|
| Our heart beats still we’re six feet under
|
| We’re mice and men
|
| Six feet under
|
| The bastard son’s brought home again
|
| Six feet under, oh |