The Paris Commune was an anarchist dream,
violently torn apart at the seam.
No king, no mayor, nor commander-in-chief.
Banners unfurled that declared "Friends of Peace."

No more death penalty or children in mines.
No more conscription by monarchs drinking wine.
The Catholic Church needs to share the King's fate.
Put up a wall between the church and the state.

With a crash Vendôme Column came toppling down.
The Emperor shattered in pieces on the ground.
Tuileries Palace went up in red flames. 
royalty burning, monarchy maimed. 

Oil soaked turpentine and gunpowder bombs,
the people rejoice singing songs until dawn.
The people rejoice singing songs until dawn.
The people rejoice singing songs until dawn.

"TO ARMS! TO ARMS! That Paris be bristling with barricades, and that behind these improvised ramparts, it will hurl again its cry of war, its cry of pride, its cry of defiance, and its cry of victory; because Paris, with its barricades, is undefeatable."

Thousands of Communards defend the barricades,
fighting to bury the feudalist masquerade. 
Those who were captured were put up against the wall.
So many died that the commune would finally fall.

Cemetery massacres, ten thousand dead.
Withering roses and hard rotten bread,
served by the state with a side of cold dread,
withering roses and hard rotten bread.