In his place there grew an angry festered wound
Filled with hatred and remorse
Where I'd pick and scratch till the blood it matched
The silent rage now that fills my lungs
For there are many ways to kill a man they say
With bayonet, axe, or sword
But son a bullet fired from a shapeless guise
Leaves but the shell of a Thompson gun

Walk away me boys, walk away me boys
And by mornin' we'll be free
Wipe that golden tear from your mother dear
And raise what's left of the flag for me

From the East out to the Western shore
Where many men and many more will fall
But no angel flies with me tonight
Till freedom reigns on all
And curse the name for which we slaved our days
Till every man shall his kingdom come

But sure as night turns day
Ends the passion play
Oh my God what have they done?
WIth madman's rage, well they dug our graves