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It’s either thump your hairy chest or it’s flop listless to the floor 
Where is the man built of the stuff of ancient legend and folklore?

In an age of softness and ease
It would seem the Old Pattern’s ceased
Where is the man crammed full of moxie
That breaks apart the jaws of the beast?

This sort of man will rise in the tempest and laugh at all difficulty
This sort of man will stand all by his lonesome and alter history
This sort of man will grow ten feet taller when backed up to the red sea
This sort of man will give up his life so that others might have the real thing

Honor is in the dumpster 
They say manliness is passé
Where is the man on the errand of justice
That doesn’t give a whit what “they” say

In this hour of virulent selfishness
It would seem that manly strength has ebbed away
Where is the man bursting with zeal 
To prove that myth loathsome-hear-say

This sort of man will smile at the pain he endures to break slaves free
This sort of man will bark at the storm and command the winds to cease
This sort of man will grow ten feet taller when facing impossibility
This sort of man will gladly die that his children may have liberty

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