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 Is it roots? Shotgun roots! Run, run, run!