So this is the West, a land we're meant to defend, Of happy slaves, who will babble to the end, Beneath the towers, where financers roost, But above them the sun, That sings out an ancient truth,
Against, the modern world. Against, the modern world.
On a hill, that leads down to the sea, The last batallions, of those who wait to see, The northern lights, and the midnight sun, They await their sunrise, That they know will surely come,
Against, the modern world. Against, the modern world.
Against, the modern world. Against, the modern world.