I'm going to pray for the cold, I'm going to pray not for
Anything at all,
I'm going to pray for the war, I'm going to pray that my dagger's not
The first blade withheld
And when that bird beaks its blood on my windowsill
I know that I have been called.
And the glory of economy,
Is when your dwarf shall become a man,
Woe to the night, woe to the night,
Emaciated forester dancing in the moonlight,
Dancing just to stave off the hunger—it's a hunger where
You want to hit him in the fucking knees,
And then you hit him in the fucking knees!

Shooter! Shoot up! But you better watch your allocution.
Shooter, shooter, shoot up! But Donna, you better
Never turn your back on that dwarf, and:
You better watch your allocution!

Donna's got a right to be tired! She's been swamped in the kitchens
Of a Dark Royalty,
And if you love me! You'll know my heart
Belongs to the shepherd
Who has nursed his lord back from the tombs of a Dark Galilee,
And if you know me now,
Then I shall know you now,
I SHALL KNOW YOU BY THE LIGHT ON YOUR FACE,
I SHALL KNOW YOU BY THE LIGHT COMING OUT OF YOUR FACE


Lyrics submitted by RikkDoc

Styled By Dr. Roberts song meanings
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