i am the nail that you can t strike i am the spear that will run you through and when the shots were falling we were sound asleep and you filled your palms with dirty bombs instead of hand grenades i am teeth which cannot bite i ll tear your garden up by the roots and when the shots were falling we were sound asleep and you filled your palms with dirty bombs instead of hand grenades hear the seven bell tolls ringing loud for you coroners and vultures cry out gloria all across the valley onwards towards the sun the two bit prophet sways and pulls a price from everyone feel the heavy hoof beats pound across the land the sins of our forefathers lay within our clutching hands watch the plane pass over hear its call to arms the golden drunk of morning made me straight my bended knee