Your honeyed words slide over all of our dead Your pregnant jails are leaking all of our young. And over the mountain, And over the sea, The song of a thousand birds is singing [We'll be free] They cut off our branches but we'll grow them back, Our roots are too deep in this soil burnt and black... Let loose your dogs to feed on all of our bones, Kick in our doors and quietly burn down our homes. And over the mountain, And over the sea, The song of a thousand birds is singing [We'll be free] They cut off our branches but we'll grow them back, Our roots are too deep in this soil burnt and black... We've paid in our blood We'll pay in our tears For the rent on our own land You control through fear, You beat us in castles, You put us through hell, The pressure and chokeholds are all that you sell All our days will come... All our days will come...