| The motorway won’t take a horse
|
| The wanderer has found a course to follow
|
| The traveller unpacked his bags for the last time
|
| The troubadour cut off his hand and now he wants mine
|
| Oh no, not me.
|
| The circus girl fell off her horse and now shes paralysed
|
| The hitchiker was bound and gagged, raped on the roadside
|
| The libertine is locked in jail
|
| The pirate sunk and broke his sail
|
| But I still have to go
|
| I’ve got to go, so here i go
|
| I’m going to run the risk of being free
|
| The magicians secrets all revealed
|
| And the preachers lies are all concealed
|
| And all our heroes lack any conviction
|
| They shout through the bars of cliche and addiction
|
| So i’ve got to go
|
| I’ve got to go, so here i go
|
| I’m going to run the risk of being free
|
| And in this drought of truth and invention
|
| Whoever shouts the loudest gets the most attention
|
| So we pass the mic and they’ve got nothing to say except:
|
| «Bow down, bow down, bow down to your god»
|
| Then we hit the floor
|
| And make ourselves and idol to bow before,
|
| Well i can’t
|
| And i wont
|
| Bow down
|
| Anymore.
|
| No more. |