Oh I hear the drums, and your mad xylophones
And I see your bright feathers as you’re marching along
And the sunset’s bright colours, like you’d never believe
On the old dusty roads of home
But you’re dancing slow, and feeling alone
Cos’ you’ve lost yet another loved one from home
And the crow’s growing tired of singing the same song
On the old dusty roads of home
But you’ll be there again, with your bright feathers on
And you’ll dance to the drums and those mad xylophones
Cos’ in this place filled with sorrow you are not afraid
On the old dusty roads of home
On the old dusty roads of home
Your hands are cold, your eyes are empty
You rock me to sleep like a song with no story
And it's growing old, it's growing old
But I will love you for a while, for a while
And I will keep you for a while, for a while
For a while, for a while
I've made my heart as hollow as yours
You'll whisper unheard through those large wooden halls
And it's growing old, it's growing old
But I will love you for a while, for a while
And I will keep you for a while, for a while
For a while, for a while
And it's growing old, it's growing old
But I'll forget you in a while, in a while
And I won't miss you for a while, for a while
For a while, for a while
For a while, for a while
For a while, for a while
Down the river, there he lay beneath the mangrove flats
A drink in hand or several was all he ever had
They searched for seven hours till the dying sun gave out
And his mother’s cries crawled through the night
The curse of Juan Bautista
And the gravestone carvers, have way too much to do
Oh the gravestone carvers, have way too much to do
One by one they shot ’em down in the Old Malate slums
No trial judge or jury there no one held to account
There are over 13,000 now and the blood is running yet
And their mothers’ cries crawl through the night
To curse this bloody war
And the gravestone carvers, have way too much to do
Oh the gravestone carvers, have way too much to do
And the gravestone carvers, have way too much to do
Oh the gravestone carvers, have way too much to do
There’s a cry in our waters, there’s a cry in our streams
There’s a cry in our rivers and coves
There’s a cry in the valley, beneath pebble stones
There’s a cry on the dark forest floor
There’s red in our waters, there’s red in our streams
There’s red in our rivers and coves
There’s red in the valley, beneath pebble stones
There’s red on the dark forest floor
Now it’s still in our waters, it’s still in our streams
It’s still in our rivers and coves
It’s still in the valley, beneath pebble stones
It’s still on the dark forest floor
Well don’t call me a liar to the witnesses here
The trees and the stones, and their lawyers, the bears
No purse full of silver could buy
There’s red in our waters, there’s red in our streams
There’s red in our rivers and coves
There’s red in the valley, beneath pebble stones
There’s red on the dark forest floor
Oh will you go where the wild rivers flow
Where the wild rivers flow on for miles
And oh will you know why the waves down here glow
Why they put on a fairy light show
Where the sun beats down and stars are going round
And the moon is laying low, tides are going slow
Oh will you go where the days keep no pace
Where the clock has no meaning or place
And oh will you know where the hermit crabs go
Where the hermit crabs go for the night
Where the sun beats down and stars are going round
And the moon is laying low, tides are going slow
And I’ll see you again, like I did once before
And I know I’ll remember you well
Where the sun beats down and stars are going round
And the moon is laying low, tides are going slow
The dust returns to this barren ground, its years away from rain.
And in the night when the church bells call, the young men cry.
There's thirty pieces of silver now,
And three kisses from a traitor and how
How must I, I carry on?
Now in this place that the world forgot, one rich man stands a grinning.
For in the night when the church bells called, they'd brought him all that they had.
There's thirty pieces of silver now,
And three kisses from a traitor and how
How must I, I carry on?
“Oh pray for the rain to come” said he, from his sad and lonely throne.
“And dare ye not to sin” said he, “to the fires of hell you must go.”
There's thirty pieces of silver now,
And three kisses from a traitor and how
How must I, I carry on?
The day did come when the rain did fall, with a loud and mighty roar.
And the shades of death bore his soul away, and the church bells called no more.
There's thirty pieces of silver now,
And three kisses from a traitor and how
How must I, I carry on?
How must I, I carry on?
I wish I could tell you, how I hate and I love you
When you chew up my things and electricity bills
And it seems you do nothing but eat, run and sleep
And wait at the door with your big furry ears
But I’ll never forget you my little brown dog
I’ll never forget how you sleep when I sing you songs
And I hope that somehow you’ll remember me
But I’d prefer that you’re happy and loved as can be
Oh I hope that you’re happy and loved as can be
Oh I wish I could tell you that soon I won’t be here
That you’ll have to be brave like when we hunt for mosquitoes
And I wish I could tell you, you’ll have to be careful
Because some people well they, just ain’t no good
But I’ll never forget you my little brown dog
I’ll never forget how you sleep when I sing you songs
And I hope that somehow you’ll remember me
But I’d prefer that you’re happy and loved as can be
Oh I hope that you’re happy and loved as can be