|
There's a chance that they take |
|
Thrown in together |
|
And decisions they make |
|
Out of their hands |
|
There's a nightmare in sight |
|
Goes on forever |
|
And no one will take flight |
|
Everyone stands |
|
Fifty-thousand lay dead |
|
Out of the shadows |
|
Resurrectionists said |
|
"Oh, what a sight" |
|
And someone will get rich |
|
Cheating the gallows |
|
As the scavenger flits |
|
All through the night |
|
No one will cry |
|
Everyone's writing their final goodbye |
|
Under the skies |
|
Of scarlet and black |
|
Thousands of eyes |
|
There's no turning back |
|
Morning draws near |
|
The hour is at hand |
|
Soon to be over |
|
When ghosts walk this land |
|
There's a picture to paint |
|
Broken and haggard |
|
Propositioned too late |
|
Beggar's delight |
|
Riders lay where they fall |
|
Bloody and ragged |
|
To their mothers they call |
|
Frozen in fright |
|
No one will cry |
|
Everyone's writing their final goodbye |
|
Under the skies |
|
Of scarlet and black |
|
Thousands of eyes |
|
There's no turning back |
|
Morning draws near |
|
The hour is at hand |
|
Soon to be over |
|
When ghosts walk this land |
|
What a surprise |
|
They march off to war |
|
Nothing to give |
|
And nothing to score |
|
It seems so clear |
|
The final demand |
|
Waterloo teeth |
|
From the ghost of a man |
|
Under the skies |
|
Of scarlet and black |
|
Thousands of eyes |
|
There's no turning back |
|
Morning draws near |
|
The hour is at hand |
|
Soon to be over |
|
When ghosts walk this land |
|
What a surprise |
|
They march off to war |
|
Nothing to give |
|
And nothing to score |
|
It seems so clear |
|
The final demand |
|
Waterloo teeth |
|
From the ghost of a man |
