A Nation of Immigrants
Dust storm is clearing, the old familiar dream.
I wave my seeing hand, asleep again on haunted land.
Rode in on iron horses, their hooves that crack the ground.
We water them in creeks of blood; no richer oil have we found.
Hear the ghosts of the west - they burn them traincars down.
As peddlers we trade in death;
blood and gunpowder for a crooked crown.
A nation, on no man's land; no nation, on graves will stand.
A nation, will be thy end.
No nation, for cursed men.
I wave my seeing hand, asleep again on haunted land.
Rode in on iron horses, their hooves that crack the ground.
We water them in creeks of blood; no richer oil have we found.
Hear the ghosts of the west - they burn them traincars down.
As peddlers we trade in death;
blood and gunpowder for a crooked crown.
A nation, on no man's land; no nation, on graves will stand.
A nation, will be thy end.
No nation, for cursed men.
Credits
Writer(s): Isaac Faulk, James Hansen, Joe Strong-truscelli, Shane Mccarthy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.