| I walk in the room and I look at my feet
|
| There’s death in the air but I lie through my teeth
|
| And the message received is as clear as it’s deep
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| That the Romans are feasting their eyes
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| It’s not my idea of sport anymore
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| And I wouldn’t have come if I’d been here before
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| As they leer and cavort
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| And they roll on the floor
|
| And it’s only a quarter to nine
|
| And we’re all gonna die
|
| By the end of the night
|
| We’ve got nothing to save
|
| Our precarious lives
|
| It’s a question of time
|
| They’ve got blood in their eyes
|
| And they’re all drunk as lords
|
| And we’re all gonna die
|
| I used to expect some respect to be shown
|
| But I’m watching my dignity sink like a stone
|
| Where it’s kicked and it’s thrown
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| But I hope that they don’t
|
| Have other distractions in mind
|
| And we’re all gonna die
|
| By the end of the night
|
| We’ve got nothing to save
|
| Our precarious lives
|
| It’s a question of time
|
| They’ve got blood in their eyes
|
| And they’re all drunk as lords
|
| And we’re all gonna die
|
| Dear God, I can’t be what I’m not
|
| But always a favour I’ll owe
|
| If you let me go home
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| Cos I’m dead if you don’t |