[Intro] [Slow, rhythmic boot stomp on a wooden porch] [A lonesome, minor-key banjo melody with heavy distortion] [Low, rumbling bass guitar enters] [A long, mournful slide guitar wail] [Verse 1] (Spoken with a thick, gravelly drawl) Now listen close, 'round the barrel fire... The land of the free is a tangled wire. [Singing starts] The frost is creeping 'cross the Tennessee line But it ain’t the weather, it’s a dark design Blacked-out SUVs like hearses on the prowl While the ghost of justice lets out a howl They’re freezing the spirit, they’re locking the gate Turning our neighbor into a tool of the state. [Verse 2] I look to the north where the shadows grow tall I see a young man’s name written on the wall Alex Pretti... a requiem for the brave They dug him a hole and they called it a grave No trial, no jury, just a cold, leaden rain Now his mama’s heart is a hurricane of pain In the home of the brave, we’re just numbers in a file Watching freedom die with a plastic smile. [Pre-Chorus] [Banjo picking becomes frantic and aggressive] The eagle is blind and the stars are all gray They’re hauling the soul of this nation away Under the badge, there’s a heart made of stone Leaving us cold, and leaving us lone. [Chorus] Oh, we’re living in the Iced Cage now With a heavy iron brand upon our brow The American dream is a frozen field Where the only crop is a broken shield Yeah, the sun went down on the land of the light Welcome to the Iced Cage... welcome to the night. [Bridge] [Music drops to a heavy, sludge-metal breakdown] [Drums: THUMP... THUMP... CRACK] (Whispered, menacing) They’re coming for the baker. They’re coming for the smith. Freedom’s just a ghost... Freedom’s just a myth. [Screamed] BREAK THE LOCKS! REMEMBER ALEX! [Guitar and Banjo Solo] [A blistering duet between a screaming, high-gain guitar and a dirty, overdriven banjo] [Deep, slow bends on the guitar strings] [Aggressive Zakk Wylde-style pinch harmonics throughout] [Chorus] Oh, we’re living in the Iced Cage now With a heavy iron brand upon our brow The American dream is a frozen field Where the only crop is a broken shield Yeah, the sun went down on the land of the light Welcome to the Iced Cage... welcome to the night. [Outro] [Music slows to a funeral march] Rest in peace, Alex... [Pinch harmonic] The ice is getting thicker... [Banjo pluck] The candle’s getting flicker... [Long, feedback-heavy slide guitar note] God help us all... in the cage... [The sound of a heavy bolt-action rifle chambering a round] [Silence] [End]
