The ones who hate the most are full of fear.
They fight us when they think that we are weak;
for in our strength they don’t dare get too near
unless they’re sure we’ll turn the other cheek.
Deep in their guts they know this simple fact:
that there will never be enough white men
to overcome us when we choose to act.
No question that they’ll be outnumbered then.
So when we see them marching through our streets
we know their days of terror will not last.
The savage rhythm that their goosestep beats
will be forgotten when their reign has passed.
We hold our heads up high when they’re in town,
for one sweet day we’ll beat the bastards down.