“We dare defend our rights.”
“Blessed are the meek.”
Unless it’s four little girls in Sunday school
Learning how to turn the other cheek;
Or the younguns lashed with brimstone tongues
(“Boys like girls, and girls like boys.”);
Or the hijos watching Papa patted down
In the blue lights and siren’s noise

Old pappy, can you hear it?
On the soft Southern breeze?
There’s hollering in the streets:
“We dare defend our rights.”

We're trying to work on this Holy Ghost building
To make these children a home
But us kids are getting restless
And you won't even cut the front porch light on
You've got every window boarded
You’ve got every last door barred
If you won't let us lay the plans on the supper table
We'll build the thing in your front damn yard

Old pappy, can you hear us?
On the soft Southern breeze?
There’s hollering in the streets:
“We dare defend our rights.”
Show me what you can build up
Show me what you can burn down
Show me what you can build up
Show me what you can burn down