The Barbarians - Greta Van Fleet

Children with their toys of war, whoa-oh

Birthright of death with a fiery breath

Funeral of any sense, oh-whoa

Painted up in the red and dressed in lead, we are

Are we prisoners or renegades?

Well, I've done my time, whoa-oh

Behold visions of burning skies

Alas Babylon, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Mothers of barbarians, oh-whoa

Were your young so spry when they left to die?

We are

Are we prisoners or renegades?

Well, I've done my time, whoa-oh

Behold visions of burning skies

Alas Babylon, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Are we prisoners or renegades?

Well, I've done my time, whoa-oh

Behold visions of burning skies

Alas Babylon, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa