Tonight, the dis-harmonic symphony of the cicadas plague 
my earsÂ…
Drifting off to the mind numbing hum of grinding gears.
Families starving in the eerie silence of the hillsÂ…lie 
exposed to the elements so fierceÂ…
Hold out just one more dayÂ…say the same tomorrowÂ…say the 
same tomorrow.
For the union, hold out, for a fair wage and a living, 
this sorrow.
Living and dying union men.
Meet them in the streets, meet them in the hollers, meet 
them in the hills and don't back down.
Fight for what is right, for every working man to earn 
his keep.
Fight for what is right till they meet your demandsÂ…in 
Bloody HarlanÂ…lives laid down for the union.
Scarlet red around your neck. 
Black lungs and broken backs in Bloody Harlan, in Bloody 
HarlanÂ…in Bloody Harlan.
The years go on and the mountains crumble.
The right to live and work, sacrificing body and land.
From Kentucky to West Virginia, the workers rise and fall 
while wringing hands profit off of it all...