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

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