It's the will of the dying
Steaming into the darkness
In a cold seductive chill
On a icy September night

Holding gnawed children
Stripped and boned in hunger
Vision of a father on death row
Killing a child at every door

(Chorus)
The khaki figures in Iron clad boots
Banging hard in their heads
Oppression and torture the only pastime
Their eyes bloodshot
And in b_____ tears

Brave children of the night
Ringing high a blatant holler
Their frosty hands in protest
Defying a brutal regime

Knowing that I had long since died
I could now ride fearless
For I had nothing to loose
Yet, my soul will ride for them

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