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Two, three, four... |
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The shankill butchers ride tonight |
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You better shut your windows tight |
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They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives |
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And taking all their whiskey by the pint |
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'Cause everybody knows |
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If you don't mind your mother's words |
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A wicked wind will blow |
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Your ribbons from your curls |
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Everybody moan, everybody shake, |
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The shankill butchers wanna catch you |
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Awake |
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They used to be just like me and you |
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They used to be sweet little boys |
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But something went horribly askew |
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Now killing is their only source of joy |
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'cause everybody knows... |
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[Repeat:] |
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The shankill butchers on the rise |
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They're waiting till the dead of night |
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They're picking at their fingers with their knives |
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And wiping off their cleavers on their thighs |
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'Cause everybody knows... |
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[Repeat:] |
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The shankill butchers wanna catch you |
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The shankill butchers wanna cut you |
|
The shankill butchers wanna catch you |
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Awake |
|
Awake |
|
Awake |
|
Awake |
