No track playing
Start playback to see track details here.
Yeah... this is for the forgotten ones.
Standing on the line where the asphalt ends No favors from the
top, just back-road friends They talk about the freedom that we used
to hold But we're writing our own story in the bitter cold
I feel the pressure
rising in the chest of the brave
(rise up) We won't go quietly into the grave!
This is the anthem of the working man's hand Standing tall for
our sacred land
(let it ring) With the hammer and the heart we make our
stand
We sweat for every dollar that they try to take We mend
the broken promises they always make But you can't break a spirit
that was forged in fire Our voices in the valley are rising
higher
This is the anthem of the working man's hand
Standing tall for our sacred land
(let it ring) With the hammer and the heart we make our
stand
They tried to divide us
They tried to break our bones
But this ground we walk on
Is our sovereign
home!
Stand up... Yeah,
we're still here.