[Ominous Intro] . . . ! . . . . . . ! . [Verse 1] Three days after the press had run The council met at night The Mayor declared a nuisance What we had printed in the light [Verse 2] One hundred men marched to the shop Under the marshal's command They pulled the press into the street By order of his hand [Pre-Chorus] They thought if they could burn the words The words would cease to be They thought if they could kill the press They'd kill the memory [Chorus] The burning, the burning They set the truth on fire The burning, the burning They built a funeral pyre Scattered type like ashes Papers turned to flame But you cannot burn a story You cannot burn a name [Break] . . ! . . . [Verse 3] The flames lit up the river The smoke rose to the sky One hundred men stood watching As the Expositor died [Verse 4] But seventeen days later At Carthage they would fall The men who burned the paper Had written on the wall [Chorus] The burning, the burning They set the truth on fire The burning, the burning They built a funeral pyre Scattered type like ashes Papers turned to flame But you cannot burn a story You cannot burn a name [Bridge - consequence] They wanted silence They got a martyrdom They wanted the story buried But the story had just begun June tenth they burned the press down June twenty-seventh they died And the words they tried to murder Walked out the other side [Final Chorus - triumphant through grief] The burning, the burning They set the truth on fire The burning, the burning They built their own pyre The type is scattered, the paper ash The press is torn apart But the story lives in every mouth And beats in every heart [Outro - haunting, then resolving] You cannot burn a name... You cannot burn a name... (Lo, it is sudden day...) [End]
