Farewell, good fellows, your ways are not for me
Farewell, good fellows, your ways are not for me
Rest upon your laurels, glad you found your peace, but

Farewell, good fellows, your ways are not for me
Rapping at the chapel door
Sweeping up an enemys floor

Do not touch or make a sound
Keep your eyes upon the ground
Read your countless volumes

Shunned your many sins
But I cannot find salvation
In the rattlin of your tins


I wish good to your children
And their own children, too

But your armor will not fit me
Although, fine, its suiting you


Farewell, good fellows, your ways are not for me
Farewell, good fellows, your ways are not for me
Rest upon your laurels, glad you found your peace, but

Farewell, good fellows, your ways are not for me

A flag is waved, a bomb is thrown

So many names and dates to know
Books upon the books are stacked
To get something so simple back

We're talkin' revolution
But spirals not the spins
Where you fall down, dizzy

And forget where to begin

I wish good to your children

And their own children, too
But your armor will not fit me
Although, fine, its suiting you


Turn your blessings into weapons
And hold them before your chest

To you and all your comrades
I only wish the best
We may not meet again

For we are treading separate trails
But I'll cast off and think of you
On seas or roads or rails


From chapels to the armies
Magician to the knave

You either blaze your own trail
Or you're diggin' your own grave


I wish good to your children
And their own children, too
But your armor will not fit me

Although, fine, its suiting you

Your armour will not fit me

Although, fine, it's suiting you

Farewell good fellows

Farewell good fellows, your ways are not for me
Farewell good fellows
Farewell good fellows, your ways are not for me

Not for me