Decemberists. The Crane Wife. Sons and Daughters. Zeneszám

When we arrive, sons and daughters
We
We
We

These currents pull us
Steady your boats, arms to shoulder

Making this cold harbor now home

Take up your arm, sons and daughters
We will arise from the bunkers
By land, by sea, by Dirigible
We

When we arrive, sons and daughters
We
We
We
We

When we arrive, sons and daughters
We
We
We
We

When we arrive, sons and daughters
We
We
We
We

When we arrive, sons and daughters
We
We
We
We

Here all the bombs fade away
Here all the bombs fade away
Here all the bombs fade away
...