James Dean Bradfield There'll Come A War
Can you hear it moving through the fields of Lonquén
Can you feel it throbbing through the tongues of Llanquihue
Can you smell it rising from the hot bread ovens of Santiago
Can you see it in the eyes of those that dream itThere'll come a war
There'll come a warWith songs from bursting lungs
Not death from guns
To protect dissent
To resurrect
Where the rocket's red glare
And the marching machines
Will all but fade
Where we are judged by not what we took
But what we gave