The Barbarians

Children with their toys of war
Birthright of death with a fiery breath
Funeral of any sense
Painted up in the red and dressed in lead
We are

Are we prisoners or renegades?
Well, I've done my time
Woah
Behold visions of burning skies
Alas Babylon
Woah, woah, woah, woah

Mother's of barbarians
Woah
Were your young so spry when they left to die?
We are

Are we prisoners or renegades?
Well, I've done my time
Woah
Behold visions of burning skies
Alas Babylon
Woah, woah, woah, woah

Woah, woah, woah, woah
Woah, woah, woah, woah