Saracen blood spilled as crosses are rising high
Men giving their lives, for the Holy Sea they die
Walls surround this golden city like a crown of thorns
Will the wailing ever cease, will we forever mourn?
Behold memories of wars
Are rising as we're building the New [bad word] 
Men and children toil in the blazing sun
Mortar and brick, no walls between father and son
These green and pleasant fields that surround
The city once apart that now is one
Bygone [bad word] and wasted lives
Are gone as we're breathing the New [bad word]