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