Sixteen others take a fall for their brothers,
Reaching out for the people that they might have saved
Sixteen brothers hit the wall when the others
Turn their back on the visions that they might have paved

Someone mutters from the base of the gutter
While the shots rip the entrance to the musty fray
Fifteen stutter while the lips of the brother
Breathe the hurt of a silence that is swept away

Would you walk, if I called you my brother?
Would the sky fall down on my head?
Not a pal, or a spy, or a lover
But something more than what I said

Sixteen mothers call and cry for the brothers,
As they flip through the fears of the passing days
Sixteen others dry the tears of the mothers,
With a hand of an angel, but a demon's gaze

Would you walk, if I called you my brother?
Would the sky fall down on my head?
Not a pal, or a spy, or a lover
But something more than what I said

Sixteen brothers lose their brother,
To the gloom of their dismay
Someone mutters from the gutter,
But his words are swept away

Would you walk, if I called you my brother?
Would the sky fall down on my head?
Not a pal, or a spy, or a lover
But something more than what I said

When we've won
When we've won!