|
Rulers rule, and foolers fool |
|
How easily the flock is steered |
|
By hands so fine, cruel and kind |
|
Hands that point us down the years |
|
Down the years (x3) |
|
Down, down the years |
|
The power of gold, or even God above |
|
Awash in blood in history's mud |
|
With assassins' bullets and martyrs' spears |
|
Slaying and praying down the years |
|
Down the years (x3) |
|
Down, down the years |
|
Sex and money, like birds of prey |
|
Feed on the betrayer and the betrayed |
|
Time's demon lovers go from poison cups |
|
Their lying and plotting just got too much |
|
And your paper heroes - they'll turn to dust |
|
Like our knights in armor - they turn to rust |
|
Go hang the scapegoat; let the masses cheer |
|
Their idiot laughter an anthem down the years |
|
Down the years (x3) |
|
Down, down the years |
