We're marching
Our feet are cut
We're marching
Our hands are bruised
We're marching
Our feet are cut
We're marching
Our hands are bruised
Cannot find us on any map
Hunted down, force believe
This is the history of Alnerique
For the outside world
Neverheard
of its birth and its still neat
A company walked to this specualar
A revuge from their debts
They all assume, repayment day will come
For north, into the hillss hill
the land the splotted
savedly guared
By peace