GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG
Silent cyclones you can see but can’t hear
Move me, move me, move me
Winds of change that turn to rain
Move me, move me, move me
Living in nites of a thousand days
Move me, move me, move me
Yawning dawn’s slow motion replays
Move me, move me, move me.

Telegraphs show epitaphs of religion and belief
The lightning rods of old time gods separate the weak
And Shadows grim and dolls of tin earth me to the ground
On Angels breath the words of death in my head they run around
Beautiful whores and the strangest dwarves come to me at night
Mutated cells like Dead Sea shells lie empty without lite

Lie empty without lite
Lie empty without lite
Lie empty without lite
Lie empty without lite

And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me
And it moves me, moves me, moves me

Words by Peter Greatorex. Copyright (c) Dangerous Ditties 1999.