When mothers wait for days
for their sons to come home again
it's so damn hard to find
some steady little thing
to keep this off their minds
and it's so damn hard
and in the night she comes
dressed in the sea, it snows
she watched the town grow old
not for the town to know
we'll take, our lights so bright
hunt bravely, and march through the night
she'll make a sound so loud
we'll kill to make our grandfathers proud