Oh, Atlas, with your shaking hands
With your slipping fingers and bloodied palms
Scrabbling for purchase on the edge of the world
When will you let go?
What has the world ever done for you?
They haven\'t lifted a finger for you.
Oh, Atlas with your heavy shoulders
With your bowed heads and lowered eyes
Beaten down by the world itself
When will you stand up?
What have they done more than tear you down?
They will never have the strength you have.
Oh, Atlas, with your scorned name
With your pitied looks and mocking laughter
The only memories left after an eternity condemned
When will you reclaim your name?
What will they call you if you own yourself?
They will come to fear your name.
Oh, Atlas, how it feels to be free.