dig down deep, don’t fold

for the faintest wind might blow you off your mark, off your game

and soil your old man’s good name

hoist your head, don’t weep

or a terrible storm might sweep you out to sea

that big black sea will lay you down to sleep

when the soldiers circle ‘round and round

and the trumpeter’s horn blows a deafening sound

you plant your feet, you stand your ground,

while the bricks you laid come crumbling down from head to toe,

covered up in dust like jericho

then you shed your skin down to your bones

you know a house don’t make a home if you build it all alone

that’s just a hollow skeleton of sticks and stones

left, right, left, we’ll march

to the pounding beat of our hearts

and the battle will rattle the earth down to its core till we forget just what we’re fighting for

the sun will rise in the east

and the crimson stream at your feet will calm and recede

it will bathe and stain

and by the grace of god we can start again