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"Look into my eyes," he tells her |
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"I'm gonna say goodbye," he says, yeah |
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(?) |
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All the day(?) she thinks of is love, yeah |
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They whip him through the streets (?) |
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The gormless and the baying crowd right there |
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I can't get enough of that doomsday song |
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You can't get enough of it all |
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Listen! |
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Listen to the whores, he tells her |
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He fashions paper sculptures of them |
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He drags them to the river's bank in the car |
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Their soggy paper bodies wash ashore in the dark |
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And the priest (?)stiff in hate(?) (?) |
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Of his(?) women dressed as men for the pleasure of that priest |
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Here I am, not quite dying |
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My body left to rot in a hollow tree |
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It's branches forming shadows on the gallows (?)for me(?) |
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And the next day, and the next, and another day |
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Ignoring the pain of their particular diseases |
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They chase him through the alleys, chase him down the steps |
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They're crawling through the mud and they chant for his death |
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And drag him to the feed of the purple-headed reek(?) |
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First they give you everything that you want |
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Then they take back everything that you have |
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They live upon their feet and they die upon their knees |
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They can work with Satan while they dress like the saints |
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They know god exists for the devil to (?) |
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And they scream my name aloud down into the world below |
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Here I am, not quite dying |
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My body left to rot in a hollow tree |
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It's branches forming shadows on the gallows (?)for me(?) |
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And the next day, and the next, and another day |
