|
Terry bozzio (drums, background vocals) |
|
Davey moire (vocals) |
|
Andre lewis (organ, vocals) |
|
Roy estrada (bass, vocals) |
|
Dave parlato (bass) |
|
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals) |
|
Ruth underwood (synthesizer, marimba) |
|
Donnie vliet (harmonica) |
|
Louanne neil (harp) |
|
Ruben ladron de guevara (background vocals) |
|
Sharkie barker (background vocals) |
|
Flies all green and buzzin', |
|
In this dungeon of despair. |
|
Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes, |
|
And scratch their matted hair. |
|
A tiny light, from a window hole, |
|
A hundred yards away, |
|
Is all they ever gets to know |
|
About the regular light in the day. |
|
And it stinks so bad, the stones been chokin', |
|
And weepin' greenish drops. |
|
In the room where the giant fire puffer works, |
|
And the torture never stops. |
|
The torture never stops. |
|
Slime and rot, rats and snot, |
|
And vomit on the floor. |
|
Fifty yoogly soldiers, man, |
|
Holdin' spears by the iron door. |
|
Knives and spikes, and guns and the likes |
|
Of every tool of pain. |
|
And a sinister midget, with a bucket and a mop, |
|
Where the blood goes down the drain. |
|
And it stinks so bad, the stones been chokin', |
|
And weepin' greenish drops. |
|
In the room where the giant fire puffer works, |
|
And the torture never stops. |
|
The torture never stops. |
|
The torture.. the torture.. |
|
The torture never stops. |
|
Flies all green and buzzin', |
|
In this dungeon of despair. |
|
An evil prince eats a steaming pig, |
|
In a chamber right near there. |
|
He eats the snouts and the trotters first. |
|
The loins and the groins is soon dispersed. |
|
His carvin' style is well rehearsed. |
|
He stands and shouts: |
|
All men be cursed! |
|
All men be cursed! |
|
All men be cursed! |
|
All men be cursed! |
|
And disagree? |
|
Well, no one durst. |
|
He's the best, of course, of all the worst. |
|
Some wrong been done, he done it first. |
|
And it stinks so bad, his bones been chokin', |
|
And weepin' greenish drops. |
|
In the night of the iron sausage, |
|
Where the torture never stops. |
|
The torture never stops. |
|
The torture.. the torture.. |
|
The torture never stops. |
|
Flies all green and buzzin', |
|
In this dungeon of despair. |
|
Who are all those people, |
|
That he's locked away down there? |
|
Are they crazy? |
|
Are they sainted? |
|
Are they zeroes, |
|
Someone painted? |
|
And it's never been explained, |
|
Since it first it was created. |
|
But a dungeon, like a sin, |
|
Requires naught but lockin' in, |
|
Of everything that's ever been. |
|
Look at her. |
|
Look at him. |
|
That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. |
|
That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. |
|
That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. |
|
That's what's the deal we're dealin' in. |
