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A mass of hands press on the market window Ghosts of progress dressed in slow death Feeding on hunger and glaring through the promise Upon the food that rots slowly in the aisle A mass of nameless at the oasis That hides the graves beneath the masters hill Buried for drinking the rivers water While shackled to the line at the empty well This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground Listen to the fascist sing Take hope here war is elsewhere You were chosen this is God's land Soon well be free of blot and mixture Seeds planted by our forefathers hand A mass of promises begin to rupture Like the pockets of the new world kings Like swollen stomachs in Appalachia Like the priests that fuck you As they whisper holy things A mass of tears have transformed to stones now Sharpened on suffering woven into slings Hope lies in the rubble of this rich fortress Taking today what tomorrow never brings This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over new ground This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground Ain't the new sound Just like the old sound Look at the noose now Over the, over the Over the burning ground Ain't it funny how the factory's doors close Round the time that the school doors close Round the time that the doors of the jail cells Open up to greet you like the reaper Ain't it funny how the factory's doors close Round the time that the school doors close Round the time that a hundred thousand jail cells Open up to greet you like the reaper [Incomprehensible] This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground Like ashes in the fall Like ashes in the fall Like ashes in the fall ...