They held their heads with laughs of pain
|
They learned from men who'd just refrain
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From glancing at a mirror's face
|
|
Seven screaming diz-busters
|
Who lurked behind the rose
|
Cast iron for a bloodstream
|
And ice behind their eyes
|
|
On each and all those holy nights
|
When dusters dust becomes the sale
|
And Lucifer the light
|
The light
|
|
They're long so long this time of year
|
When stars be crossed by twirling fear
|
You don't suppose I'd prove surprised
|
|
Seven screaming diz-busters
|
Should go the route and die
|
Without that warmth they've learned to crave
|
With hardened smiles and evil signs
|
|
Bury me near the secret cove
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So they'll not know the way
|
Bury me there behind the rose
|
So they'll not rile my grave
|
I'll not reveal whose name still lost
|
|
Well their laughs of pain
|
And their harder smiles
|
And their rigid arms
|
And their evil signs
|
Yeah, the longer days ah, the longer nights
|
Oh, yeah the longer
|
Yeah, they're longer still
|
|
On each and all those holy nights
|
When dusters dust becomes the sale
|
And Lucifer the light
|
|
-----------------
|
SEVEN SCREAMING DIZ-BUSTERS
|
| Blue Oyster Cult |
