Fire of the sun
Flowers [bad word] into dust
The seed shall scatter and die
Light in her eyes
Pours black on their lives
We gather round a funeral pyre
And here we stand
In old Englands land
Shattered glass on the ground
There are no words
To console this earth
To restore old Englands pride

Never in a million or so years
Did we suffer so much bloodshed
 [bad word] the man
With the warm and gentle hands
Her name burned into his brow
Scorn in her eyes
Her back to the cries
We spit upon the life
That never was
And here we stand
In old Englands land
The rose is choked by its thorn
She will cast salt for your wound
Old England wears no crown

Never in a million or so years
Did we suffer so much bloodshed
We didnt want to hurt you
But its not over yet
No never in a million or so years
Did we suffer so much bloodshed