Down The Years

For his rune and for his gold

How easily the flock is steered

By hands so fine, cruel, and kind

Hands that point us down the years

Down the years

The power of gold, or even God above

Awash in blood in history's mud

With assassins' bullets and martyrs' spears

Slaying and praying down the years

Down the years

Sex and money, like birds of prey

Feed on the betrayer and the betrayed

Time's demon lovers go from poison cups

Their lying and plotting just got too much

And your paper heroes--they'll turn to dust

Like our knights in armor--they turn to rust

Go hang the scapegoat; let the masses cheer

Their idiot laughter an anthem down the years

Down the years