"One Hundred Years":

It doesn't matter if we all die
Ambition in the back of a black car
In a high building there is so much to do
Going home time
story on the radio...

Something small falls out of your mouth
And we laugh
prayer for something better
prayer
For something better
Please love me
Meet my mother...
But the fear takes hold
Creeping up the stairs in the dark
Waiting for the death blow

Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot
Fighting for freedom on the television
Sharing the world with slaughtered pigs
Have we got everything?
She [bad word] to get away...

The pain
And the creeping feeling
little black haired girl
Waiting for Saturday
The death of her father pushing her
Pushing her white face into the mirror
Aching inside me
And turn me round
Just like the old days
Just like the old days

Caressing an old man
And painting a lifeless face
Just a piece of new meat in a clean room
The soldiers close in under a yellow moon
All shadows and deliverance
Under a black flag
hundred years of blood
Crimson
The ribbon tightens round my throat
I open my mouth
And my head bursts open
sound like a tiger thrashing in the water
Thrashing in the water
Over and over
We die one after the other
Over and over
We die one after the other after the other...

It feels like a hundred years
One hundred years...