Reform your countryside! Reform your shafted side!
Konstantine: you are the beggar of the blasted blue light,
Oh [rich] Richie's in the back
He ain't going to like it when you go,
And Howard sells the power to the power-hungry proles,
Incriminating photo shoots that show you wearing gold,
All exit patients shall book exit flights,
And all the punk cry "deliver us, deliver us from the night!"
Oh baby, I've got to know, when you sing that song
Where the singer sings he's got to know
I feel this deliverance that is gained from the right,
Refrom your countryside!
Blast they ticks from the blasted side!
Oh twice crooked and twice cursed night,
All the punks cry "deliver us, deliver us from the night!"
She sings songs,
All hands they roll, they roll to the golden tide
And take that fool out of sight, but then you
Tell him that you got no babies, that he got no babies,
On and on.
Refrom your countryside!
Blast they ticks from your countryside,
Move thy earth in ways that your father did decide,
And all the punks cry deliver us, deliver us from your night,
Howard is a whirlwind you wonder where he blows,
A portion of his breath is in this water don't you know,
Bold broken promises left oracles in ports
And all the punks cry, "Deliver us, deliver us from your courts!"
Ah la-la,
You put the baby in the bottle and then you go,
And you sing that song that the General sings to the dawn,
You put the baby in the bottle and the bottle and you go,
And you stand up from your cupboard and you say
The world is so!
And you stand up from the river and you see its golden flow,
I am going to pay you a hundred dollars,
You are going to stay away from the rope.
La-la-la-la-la-la
And you sing that song that the General sings to the dawn.
