Russian Racehorse

Death-marching the black hearts up from behind Watch a slow vulture pick at the time. Bring up a new mother, weigh the fool's gold Price up the children, born to be sold. Born to be sold. Scab-dragging believers pass a dead virgin bride to the arms of a black hole sweeping the sky. Defied distance fathers going astray, the distant red dancers, glitter and sway Glitter and sway. Scab-dragging believers pass a dead virgin bride to the arms of the black hole sweeping the sky. Throwing a flesh flag off the bone tower, recall the old slaughter, confusion as power. Confusion is power. Confusion is power. Confusion is power. Confusion. There's nothing to shout about, and look at the time. Sit down and be counted, pour me some wine. Yeah, there's nothing to shout about, liars for hire. Blood in the water, piss in the fire. Piss in the fire. Piss in the fire. Piss in the fire. Piss in the fire. --- Russian Racehorse - Giants Chair