So this is the West, a land we're meant to defend
 Of happy slaves, who will babble to the end
 Beneath the towers, where financiers roost
 But above them the sun
 That sings out an ancient [bad word] 
 Against, the modern world
 On a hill that leads down to the sea
 The last battalions of those who wait to see
 The northern lights and the midnight sun
 They await their sunrise
 That they know will [bad word] 
 Against the modern world