The Next Day

"Look into my eyes," he tells her

"I'm gonna say goodbye," he says, yeah

"Do not cry," she begs of him, goodbye, yeah

All that day she thinks of his love, yeah

They whip him through the streets and alleys there

The gormless and the baying crowd right there

They can't get enough of that doomsday song

They can't get enough of it all

Listen

"Listen to the whores," he tells her

He fashions paper sculptures of them

Then drags them to the river's bank in the cart

Their soggy paper bodies wash ashore in the dark

And the priest, stiff in hate, now demanding fun begin

Of his women dressed as men for the pleasure of that priest

Here I am, not quite dying

My body left to rot in a hollow tree

Its branches throwing shadows on the gallows for me

And the next day, and the next, and another day

Ignoring the pain of their particular diseases

They chase him through the alleys, chase him down the steps

They haul him through the mud and they chant for his death

And drag him to the feet of the purple headed priest

First, they give you everything that you want

Then they take back everything that you have

They live upon their feet and they die upon their knees

They can work with Satan while they dress like the saints

They know God exists, for the devil told them so

They scream my name aloud down into the well below

Here I am, not quite dying

My body left to rot in a hollow tree

Its branches throwing shadows on the gallows for me

And the next day, and the next, and another day

Here I am, not quite dying

My body left to rot in a hollow tree

Its branches throwing shadows on the gallows for me

And the next day, and the next, and another day

Here I am, not quite dying

My body left to rot in a hollow tree

Its branches throwing shadows on the gallows for me

And the next day, and the next, and another day

Listen