When mothers wait for days   for their sons to come home again   it's so damn hard to find   some steady little thing   to keep this off their minds      and it's so damn hard      and in the night she comes   dressed in the sea, it snows   she watched the town grow old   not for the town to know      we'll take, our lights so bright   hunt bravely, and march through the night   she'll make a sound so loud   we'll kill to make our grandfathers proud