They will runThey will fight
In the town, wartorn
We'll strive to defeat them
Or be sent away
Shots ring out, fallen man
Children cry to sleep
No more faith in mankind
Just hate, greed, and fear
As we march through the storms
Need for shelter drives us on
We will be made to fear
The wanderers
The young man stands in front
Hold his fear in close
Back down, thought runs through him
Freezing veins, cold as ice
From across the deepest sea
Sister weeps
Mother mourns
They can't bear to worry
Their young boy may be dead
As we march through the storms
Need for shelter drives us on
We will be made to fear
The wanderers
Purple hearts made of gold
Don't mean much to me
Go on, keep your medals
Stained in blood
Worn in vain