Arms
Jude Woodhead
Fire makes your blood warm and fast
When crisis comes, when threads come apart
The language of love is the language of our brothers in arms
The language of love is the language of our brothers in arms
Your brother doesn't ask to be forgiven
Struggle is the hope in repetition
Make the dark blue blood become crimson
For the streets, for the paper, for religion
Your carry our brother in your arms
You put yourself in trouble when it's hard
Violence makes your blood warm and fast
The language of love is the language of our brothers in arms
You ain't never asked to be forgiven
Fighting is the hope in repetition
Make the dark blue blood become crimson
For the streets, for the people, for resistance
