The Gold Of The Poor

The blue sky over them

The shadows of the men

They press a trail in the sand

Running as fast as they can

They're running through the desert sun

Meshing guns in their hands

The soldier's pack is on their back

Once our wagon tramps

More than you can say

More than you can feel

More than you can say

More than you can feel

No, they will never go away

It's too late to change their minds

They only would do the same again

Until the end they will fight

More than you can say

More than you can feel