Destroying the work of long years in an hour,
Makes anarchy reign, heaping sin upon sin,
Whilst we are establishing order within.
Chorus
On the streets, in the halls where the multitude throng,
To speak certain things is essentially wrong,
But here we’re more free, be it spoken or sung;
There’s a lock on the door, but no lock on the tongue.
Chorus
Outside, if you drill with a stick for a gun,