it doesn t matter if we all die ambition in the back of a black car in a high building there is so much to do goin home time a story on the radio somethin small falls out of your mouth and we laugh a prayer for somethin better a prayer for somethin better please love me meet my mother but the fear takes hold creepin up the stairs in the dark waiting for the death blow waiting for the death blow waiting for the death blow stroking your hair as the patriots are shot fightin for freedom on the television sharin the world with slaughtered pigs have we got everything she struggles to get away the pain and the creepin feeling a little black haired girl waiting for saturday the death of her father pushing her pushing her white face into the mirror aching inside me and turn me around just like the old days just like the old days just like the old days just like the old days caressin an old man and paintin a lifeless face just a piece of new meat in a clean room the soldiers close in under a yellow moon all the shadows and deliverance under a black flag a hundred years of blood crimson a ribbon tightens round my throat i open my mouth and my head bursts open a sound like a tiger thrashing in the water thrashing in the water over and over we die one after the other over and over we die one after the other one after the other one after the other one after the other after the other it feels like a hundred years hundred years hundred years hundred years hundred years
['new wave', 'permanent wave', 'rock', 'uk post-punk']