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The Shankill Butchers

The Decemberists
Langue: anglais


The Decemberists


The shankill butchers run tonight
You better shut your windows tight
They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives
And taking all their whiskey by the pint

And everybody knows if you don't
Mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The shankill butchers wanna cut you away

They used to be just like me and you
They used to be sweet little boys
But something went horribly askew
Now killing is their only source of joy

And everybody knows if you don't
Mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The shankill butchers wanna cut you away

The shankill butchers run tonight
They're waiting until the dead of the night
They're picking at their fingers with their knives
And whiping off their cleavers on their thighs

And everybody knows if you don't
Mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The shankill butchers wanna cut you away



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