No oath guards their dreams No hope molds their schemes Down comes the curtain, up goes the puppetry Here come the moguls, dressed for the upper seats Name us hands and peasants Know our mettle when we crawl Curled beneath our lintels For a hammer that may fall Once the backbone, titans bent beneath the right Now a plump, decaying featherbed that smells of knives Rank pretenders, spurring us to lay our lives In the hands of the profiteers who'd eat the light Loud teeth made to gleam Won't be if they can seem Warm like a person, cold like consistency, True like a newborn, whole like integrity Charming layers of menace Sleek suits, coming when they go Not one turn not planned The smiles, the ties, the yammer There's a stern wind singing in the trees tonight Find your strength in the will of root, it stays alive Make no tombs for the vermin built to warp your sight By our blood and soil: This effigy, it dies tonight All the giants are dead