| There’s a creature coming born
|
| Of your pagan blessed
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| There is thunder coming down
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| Around your head
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| Ride the fire now, momma
|
| Thunder’s come again
|
| A soul to flame and rain down on ya
|
| Red rider said
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| The hills are running red
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| Better hide under your bed
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| Hide your children, mother
|
| Thunder red
|
| The hills are turning red
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| Get on your knees and beg
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| Thunder red’s a-coming
|
| Thunder red
|
| You’re reaping nothing more
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| Than your shamelessness
|
| Then sew it all together
|
| When he comes
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| Ride it down now, momma
|
| Fire’s come again
|
| Come to claim the souls to blame
|
| And riding off with them
|
| The hills are running red
|
| Better hide under your bed
|
| Hide your children, mother
|
| Thunder red
|
| The hills are turning red
|
| Get on your knees and beg
|
| Thunder red’s a-coming
|
| To get you red
|
| Fathers and nuns, nowhere to run
|
| Four horsemen riding on the wind
|
| Momma, hide your sons
|
| Daddy, get your gun
|
| Four hooves of thunder’s come again
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| Oh, run red
|
| Red thunder’s coming home
|
| For your blamelessness
|
| And rolling you forever in your dust
|
| Ride the fire now, momma
|
| Thunder’s coming again
|
| Ain’t no time to hide and cry
|
| Get on your knees and beg |