New martyrs swinging in the wind
The dead eyes searching for messiahs
In the stars
The bodies carrying the scars
Of no confession, no concession.
No sympathy
The laughter from the front row
Buzzing loudly now in bars
Over chicken in a basket
In the darkest corners of the Central Station
Passing round the spirit
That drove Rommel to his desert hole
Smashed diamonds, stripped the gold
From hidden cities in Brazil.
And killed the savage
In the name of Mary
Burn the witch, whip the bitch
Who shows her ankles on the Sabbath
Bring the kids aged 1 to 63
The family treat
Maybe there will be a vision
Of messiahs in the stars
Now all confess and make a wish
The priest is passing round the dish
Our Lady's selling tissues for the tears
For all the years of blessed rape
In the name of our sweet lord