One Hundred Years
It doesn't matter if we all dieAmbition in the back of a black carIn a high building there is so much to doGoing home timeA story on the radio
Something small falls out of your mouthAnd we laughA prayer for something betterA prayerFor something better
Please love meMeet my motherBut the fear takes holdCreeping up the stairs in the darkWaiting for the death blowWaiting for the death blowWaiting for the death blow
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shotFighting for freedom on the televisionSharing the world with slaughtered pigsHave we got everything?She struggles to get away . . .
The painAnd the creeping feelingA little black haired girlWaiting for SaturdayThe death of her father pushing herPushing her white face into the mirrorAching inside meAnd turn me roundJust like the old daysJust like the old daysJust like the old daysJust like the old days
Caressing an old manAnd painting a lifeless faceJust a piece of new meat in a clean roomThe soldiers close in under a yellow moonAll shadows and deliveranceUnder a black flagA hundred years of bloodCrimsonThe ribbon tightens round my throatI open my mouthAnd my head bursts openA sound like a tiger thrashing in the waterThrashing in the waterOver and overWe die one after the otherOver and overWe die one after the otherOne after the otherOne after the otherOne after the otherOne after the other
It feels like a hundred yearsA hundred yearsA hundred yearsA hundred yearsA hundred yearsOne hundred years