The Sleepers.
The Dreamers.
The Lost and Never Found.
You've left us little choice.
We're moving underground.

The Jokers.
The Smokers.
The Liars and the Thieves.
We're hiding in the basements.
We're underneath your streets.

We're on the road to perdition.
We're spreading our sedition.
Willing to commit treason.
Just give us one more reason.

We were born homesick,
with the taste of freedom on our tongue.
Death is a release to us.
We've been marked for martyrdom.

We will be the rising tide
to wash away the hands that bind;
to crash through kitsch and kitchens;
to smash the grand design.

We are the Unsatisfied.
We are the Discontent.
The Four Horsemen make their ride.
The angels have been sent.
The end is very near now.
Repent for all your crimes.
We sleep beneath your cities,
and we're dreaming of our time.