The courageous heart cannot afford tyranny
Let the ones who live die
And the ones who die live
Black brook bred black hand
Land, soul and sovereignty
We don't consider it exceptional bravery, but our duty.
Shall the warrior sit back and not resist
Watch his people
Impoverished and cattle treated
In the suffocating death grip
Or shall he roots and try
And let the wretched cry in drunken obedience
Their virtue sold to treachery
Is it roots? Shotgun roots!
Have the great power states at the congress of berlin
Given austro-hungarian empire
To administer and to occupy
The land of savages
Just south of knife & fork, and wealthy folk
The roots land
In the psychology of the southern slavs
Martyrdom for higher cause is mother nature's autograph
Yet you rewrite and revise and
The people despise philharmonic lies
And stick to the roots
Is it roots? Shotgun roots!
Run, run, run yeah
Bullet a come yeah
Mamma's son yeah
Grown into a man yeah
"I suggest that you nail me to a cross and burn me alive"
My flaming body will be a torch
To light my people on their path
To freedom and annihilation
Of those who stand in the way
Of unity and brotherly love
Only the coexistence of all the particulars
Shall bring the dilution in the universal
Honor the committed, hard-core militant
Revolutionary of the roots tribe