Through the winter's ice and cold, down Nicollet Avenue, a city of flame fought fire and ice 'neath an occupier's boots.
King Trump's private army from the DHS, guns belted to their coats, came to Minneapolis to enforce the law, or so their story goes.
Against smoke and rubber bullets, in dawn's early light, citizens stood for justice, their voices ringing through the night.
And there were bloody footprints where mercy should have stood. And two dead left to die on snow-filled streets, Alex Pretti and Renee Good.
Minneapolis, I hear your voice singing through the bloody mist. We'll take our stand for this land and the stranger in our midst.
In our home, they killed and roamed in the winter of '26. We'll remember the names of those who died on the streets of Minneapolis.
Trump's federal thugs beat up on his face and his chest. Then we heard the gunshots and Alex Pretti lay in the snow dead.
Their claim was self-defense, sir, just don't believe your eyes. It's our blood and bones and these whistles and phones against Miller and Noem's dirty lies.
Minneapolis, I hear your voice, crying through the bloody mist. We'll remember the names of those who died on the streets of Minneapolis
Now they say they're here to uphold the law, but they trample on our rights. If your skin is black or brown, my friend, you can be questioned or deported on sight.
In chants of "ICE out now," our city's heart and soul persists, through broken glass and bloody tears on the streets of Minneapolis.
Minneapolis, I hear your voice, singing through the bloody mist. Here in our home, they killed and roamed in the winter of '26.
We'll take our stand for this land and the stranger in our midst. We'll remember the names of those who died on the streets of Minneapolis.
We'll remember the names of those who died on the streets of Minneapolis.
