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We The Heathens - The Burg | Текст песни

Fruits and veggies and trinkets and rings
Old carpenters, blacksmiths, and gamblers and fiends
All lined to the road impatiently sold
To the merchants that run this whole town to the mold
These vendors are sellin' and buyers are yellin
In materialistically restive serenades
They're armed to the teeth, with gold to release
In an unfair trade for the lug that we need

One more knot it my noose and I'll be old news
A gesture, a muse, a flame for the fuse
One more flint for the knife and I'll be old life
The final act of the night
The scum of the land showcased at hand
The townsfolk was singing and I was roped, dead and swinging

Step, step right up
Come one and come all to the stand of the fall
This burg is a crumblin' one fool at a time
So dig your hands in your redemption has arrived
Five fingers are put to good use
An obstacle jumped for the good of the few
Invisible peasants lay waste in the hell
While fat chucklin' monarchs just eat, drink and swell

So burn this burg and take the reward
If they find you and catch you, you'll surely be sore
But first they must do so, so gorge and gorge
This markets for the taking so take what is yours

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