| There’s a graveyard by the station where the girls
|
| Wear vinyl skirts and sandals from Hungary
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| The boys ride their Riga 1s upon the little hills
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| Such sadness and grief, the kids die standing
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| That’s where we made our tryst and struggled with our guns
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| Would you still love me if the clocks could go backwards?
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| The girls would fill with blood, and the grass will be green again
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| Remember the dead, they were so great, some of them
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| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| How does the grass grow? |
| Blood, blood, blood
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Where do the boys lie? |
| Mud, mud, mud
|
| How does the grass grow? |
| Blood, blood, blood
|
| Well I lived a blind life, a white face, a prison
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| That you made, a life out of nothing, now I ride by
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| Black roads. |
| I miss you more than you’ll never, ever know
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| Waiting with my red eyes and my stone heart
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| How does the grass grow? |
| Blood, blood, blood
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Where do the boys lie? |
| Mud, mud, mud
|
| How does the grass grow? |
| Blood, blood, blood
|
| I gaze in defeat at the stars in the night
|
| The light in my life burnt away
|
| There will be no tomorrow
|
| Then you sigh in your sleep
|
| And meaning returns with the day
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| How does the grass grow? |
| Blood, blood, blood
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
|
| Where do the boys lie? |
| Mud, mud, mud
|
| How does the grass grow? |
| Blood, blood, blood |