They held their heads with laughs of pain
They learned from men who'd just refrain
From glancing at a mirror's face
Seven screaming diz-busters who lurked by a rose
Had iron for a bloodstream and ice behind their eyes
On each and all those holy nights
Where dusters dust becomes the sale and lucifer, 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 the warmth they learn to crave
With hardened smiles and evil signs
On each and all those holy nights
Where dusters dust becomes the sale and lucifer, the light
Bury me near the secret cove 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 loose (?)
Well their laugh of pain...And their harder smiles...
And their rigid arms...And their evil signs...
Longer days and the longer nights
And their longer, and longer still
On each and all those holy nights
Where dusters dust becomes the sale and lucifer, the light
compositores: ALBERT BOUCHARD, SAMUEL PEARLMAN, JOSEPH BOUCHARD, DONALD ROESER
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