Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives Tell the ale-house braves they better run for their lives Have you seen the children with the blood on their hands? Have you heard about the terror spreading through the land? 'Cos the god you pray to sees the sinners and saints But he doesn't give a damn about the people he taints
See the hounds of Fleet Street in their tatters and rags Selling false premonitions for a penny a bag All the lords and ladies with their diamonds and pearls Throwing stones in glass houses, not a care in the world Take your fancy crystals and your fossilised bone Tell the ale-house braves the devil's gauntlet is thrown
Belly full of whiskey and a pocket full of rope No fear in dying when you've lost your only hope The searchers round on you before your final breath Essence of life surrenders in the face of death
Adverse repulsion seems to drive you to the grave No hearts on fire can persuade you to be saved Blood-sucking leeches have grown bigger in the sun The roses on the stone tell what you have become
Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives Tell the ale-house braves they better pray for their livesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
