Battle hymns for the broken, battle hymns for the misled
Battle
At the textile plant, sixteen dead
There's a hornet's nest inside
It started in basements
And it started in sheds
It started in
One, two, three
Now you might have heard different
But I know
It's in the grain of the wood
It's in the needle's
There's a man homeless and hungry
There's a wind that's hard
This one's for the shoeshine boy and the farmer in
On the streets of New York the cabs don't stop
On
Never listened to the pain
Never listened to fortune or fame
Never
On the side of the dirt road, an old Chevy
Well, I climbed the seven summits and I swam the
Here we go
For the fired auto workers who were twisted,
No one knows who gave the orders, no one asks
With downcast eyes the multitudes set
as the cattle cars
She want him, want him not to go
He said I,
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