| There’s a chance that they take
|
| Thrown in together
|
| And decisions they make
|
| Out of their hands
|
| There’s a nightmare in sight
|
| Goes on forever
|
| And no one will take flight
|
| Everyone stands
|
| Fifty-thousand lay dead
|
| Out of the shadows
|
| Resurrectionists said
|
| «Oh, what a sight»
|
| And someone will get rich
|
| Cheating the gallows
|
| As the scavenger flits
|
| All through the night
|
| No one will cry
|
| Everyone’s writing their final goodbye
|
| Under the skies
|
| Of scarlet and black
|
| Thousands of eyes
|
| There’s no turning back
|
| Morning draws near
|
| The hour is at hand
|
| Soon to be over
|
| When ghosts walk this land
|
| There’s a picture to paint
|
| Broken and haggard
|
| Propositioned too late
|
| Beggar’s delight
|
| Riders lay where they fall
|
| Bloody and ragged
|
| To their mothers they call
|
| Frozen in fright
|
| No one will cry
|
| Everyone’s writing their final goodbye
|
| Under the skies
|
| Of scarlet and black
|
| Thousands of eyes
|
| There’s no turning back
|
| Morning draws near
|
| The hour is at hand
|
| Soon to be over
|
| When ghosts walk this land
|
| What a surprise
|
| They march off to war
|
| Nothing to give
|
| And nothing to score
|
| It seems so clear
|
| The final demand
|
| Waterloo teeth
|
| From the ghost of a man
|
| Under the skies
|
| Of scarlet and black
|
| Thousands of eyes
|
| There’s no turning back
|
| Morning draws near
|
| The hour is at hand
|
| Soon to be over
|
| When ghosts walk this land
|
| What a surprise
|
| They march off to war
|
| Nothing to give
|
| And nothing to score
|
| It seems so clear
|
| The final demand
|
| Waterloo teeth
|
| From the ghost of a man |