Banish the old regime
A laugh, a cry, a scream
Mark your fall and the way you sing
Huddle with your civic ring
Hail glorious followers
Your day is come
As our brothers so demonstrated
The rights we have for waited
Sing us a song
We can all sing along
We
We will make it I swear
Thank you my men
And away! Retire to my chamber
Driver, Liberty is weeping
Won
Honest men who think nothing
Of a few distortions and lies
A slow tear he cries
The shock of this man is enough to break
The will of a thousand good men
Tied to the stake
A nation remembers and questions
Few would stand that storm of retrospect
But those that did, the champions elect
Would soon go down, down to market-town
With the screams of the innocent and the dead
Follow me, follow me, down, down, down
Won
Follow me; follow me, down, down, down
Won
Lies and death
The return of a tyrant to his rightful place
Folk of the Land, I urge you
Rise up, rise up, then burn it back down again
Take one last look at the wealth that abounds
Then turn your back
And raze it to the ground
Build his palace higher
And raze it to the ground
