| Like weeds on a rockface waiting for the scythe
|
| Ricochet — ricochet
|
| The world is on a corner waiting for jobs
|
| Ricochet — ricochet
|
| Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
|
| «And who can bear to be forgotten»
|
| «And who can bear to be forgotten»
|
| March of flowers, march of dimes
|
| These are the prisons, these are the crimes
|
| «Men wait for news while thousands are still asleep
|
| Dreaming of tramlines, factories, pieces of machinery
|
| Mine shafts things like that.»
|
| March of flowers, march of dimes
|
| These are the prisons, these are the crimes
|
| Sound of thunder, sound of gold
|
| Sound of the devil breaking parole
|
| Ricochet — it’s not the end of the world
|
| Sound of thunder, sound of gold
|
| Sound of the devil breaking parole
|
| Ricochet — ricochet
|
| These are the prisons these are the crimes
|
| Teaching life in a violent new way
|
| Ricochet — ricochet
|
| Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
|
| «And who can bear to be forgotten»
|
| «And who can bear to be forgotten»
|
| March of flowers, march of dimes
|
| These are the prisons, these are the crimes
|
| «Early, before the sun
|
| They struggle off to the gates
|
| In their secret fearful places they see their lives
|
| Unraveling before them»
|
| March of flowers — march of dimes
|
| These are the prisons, these are the crimes
|
| Sound of thunder, sound of gold
|
| Sound of the devil breaking parole
|
| Ricochet — it’s not the end of the world
|
| «That's when they get home, damp eyed and weary
|
| They smile and crush their children to their heaving chests
|
| Making unfulfillable promises
|
| For who can bear to be forgotten» |