Bound For Glory The Good Fight
Listen to my story that I’m about to tell. It doesn’t
have much glory, it’s about a man who fell. About an
aryan brother who had many more things to see. Why
couldn’t it have been another, I would have rather it
had been me.
He fought the good fight for his nation. He fought the
good fight to his creation. He fought the good fight
for white salvation. He fought the good fight for his
nation.
He had many more things to see, I would have rather it
had been me. But now his spirit is forever free, still
I’d rather it had been me.
He walked out of his doorway, without knowing he’d
never return. To have a white night was his only
concern. But little did he know that his time was
running out. ‘Cos on that final journey home he hear
the enemy shout.
He was killed for his racial pride. You try to tell me
it was justified. And because you take the enemy’s
side. You’re just gonna let it slide. Tell me what is
wrong with this country we live in. After all the white
blood that has been given. Justice is still a far cry
away. With how much more blood do we have to pay?
An act of cowardice takes it place on another warrior
of our race. We lost our comrade on that fateful night
but deep in our hearts we’ll carry on his fight.
Shots were fired, a cry was heard, on that endless
night. But although he was struck he fought with all of
his might. And in that room, in that bed, where that
warrior lay. The fire’s still burning in his eyes, as
you can hear him say.
I fought the good fight for my nation. For my people
and my right to my creation. I sought the light of
white salvation. I fought the good fight for my nation.
He had many more things to see, I would have rather it
had been me. But now his spirit is forever free, still
I’d rather it had been me.
