History Teachers

Fix your eyes to the blackboard American boy.

In spite of the awful things you’ve found,

Right up to your last breath, raise your voice.

While the echoes rain on the glory bound.

You’ll hold hands with hatred and bleed out your faith,

And leave scattered ashes laid to waste.

But it’ll come to pass, where the first are last,

There’s a peaceful place that I’ve found.

We’ll make our stand where the streets go wild.

On the jealous curse of a rival’s blood.

You’ll fall in love while the nation dies,

And watch the golden wheatfields wave goodbye.

We’ll sing eulogies from wide open mouths.

While each whisper carries from town to town.

And it’ll come to pass, where the first are last,

Oh, there’s a peaceful place that I’ve found.

Every son and daughter from ages past.

Knows the good old days aren’t coming back.

But, everything we love is united here.

May that usher you through all your years.

And it’ll come to pass, where the first are last,

There’s a holy place that we’ll find.