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Call from the Grave/Ballad in Which Macheath Begs All Men for Forgiveness
par
Todd Rundgren
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The rain washes away and purifies It washed down the flesh we catered for And we who sell so much and wanted more The crows will come and peck away our eyes Perhaps ambition used too sharp a goad It drove us to these heights from which we swing Hacked at by greedy starlings on the wing Like horse's droppings on a country road Oh brothers learn from us how it begins And pray to God that he forgive my sins The girls who flaunt their breasts as bait there To catch some sucker who will love them The youth so sly, they stand and wait there To grab their single earnings off them The crooks, the tarts, the tart protectors The muggers and the maggots The psychopath, the unfrocked rectors I pray that they forgive my sin Someone must take a huge iron crowbar And stave their ugly faces in I only ask to know it's over Praying that they forgive my sins
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