Lyrics Concubine Waltz - Sunday Driver

Concubine Waltz

Moonlit march on a scorching pain
Parched and weary and soul in vain
In the distance a searching light
Beckons him into the night
What pretense of a shrine is this?
What kind of goddess will sway and kiss?
Get you gone for I’ll torch this den
Mischievous temptress of men
King of kings, so deeply devout
Of your virtue I have no doubt
Taste of mine, what offerings so sweet
Come sate your thirst at my feet
Every fool follows a star
Drink and piss wherever you are
Scent of jasmine and temple chime
Glory be to the concubine
Soldier, emperor, prince and fool
Long may the dancing girl rule