Texty: A Camp. The Crowning.

Brighten the corners and clear out the room
Colour the flowers in rose and maroon
Light up the fires and season the swine
We're gonna party like it's 1699
Slaughter the rabbits, the doves and the boars
And lay all the tables and open the doors
The creme-de-la-creme will be waiting on one guest of honour

Oh, up go the curtains
And down go the virgins
Oh, no, mothers are crying
Ladies of virtue will stand to accuse you of heartbreak and theft

Bells are gonna ring
Birds are gonna sing
Let the people begin
The crowning of your big head

Young drunken girls in a hideous dance
Sing a heartfelt lament of the death of romance
Beautiful boys turn and offer their cheeks
Preening and prancing, the outcome looks bleak
Good times are rolling but outside these walls
Our houses will crumble, the city will fall
But a few broken pawns don't mean nothing to our guest of honour

So let's raise our glasses to murderous asses like you
May you sleep soundly
Once we have laughter, you got what you're after
Oh, you wear it well

Bells are gonna ring
Birds are gonna sing
Let the people begin
Hear how their hearts are pounding
We're all witnessing the crowning
Of your big bleeding head

Bells are gonna ring
Birds are gonna sing
Let the people begin
Hear how their hearts are pounding
Your rise - nothing but astounding
We're all witnessing the crowning
Of your useless, ruthless head


(Thanks to Anton for these lyrics)