Album: Blast Tyrant
The leather soles go shuffling in,
Stinking of smoke and ten cent gin
Now who will toast our noble host that has this morning given up the ghost?
The wooden coffer hand to hand
Kind words are offered, silent prayers
But she is satisfied the most while stabbing madly at the roast
The rib of Adam, the eyes of Eve
The sons of Cain receive no reprieve
The creditor rides with his men
The death of debtors he won't forgive
They repossess his silver eyes, now in the potter's field he lies
The rib of Adam, the eyes of Eve
The sons of Cain receive no reprieve
Waiting for a dead man's shoes
Have you heard the latest news?
Lazarus is back from the dead looking as one would expect
Dripping with the waters of Sheol
Babbling about body and soul
And Then he found his wife in their bed buck naked and already wed
The tax collector beneath his sheets
The door swings open Floorboards creak
Now who will toast our noble host who has this morning given up the ghost?
The rib of Adam, the eyes of Eve
The sons of Cain receive no reprieve