The Torture Never Stops

(albüm: FZ:OZ - 2002)

Flies all green 'n buzzing
In his dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes
And scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window hole
A hundred yards away
Is all they ever get to know
About the regular life in the day

An' it stinks so bad the stones been choking
'N weeping greenish drops
In the room where the giant fire puffer works
'N the torture never stops
The torture never stops
The torture never stops
The torture never stops

Slime 'n rot, rats 'n snot
'N vomit on the floor
'N fifty ugly soldiers, man
Holding spears by the iron door
Knives 'n spikes 'n guns 'n the likes
Of every tool of pain
An' a sinister midget with a bucket an' a mop
Where the blood goes down the drain

An' it stinks so bad the stones been choking
'N weeping greenish drops
In the room where the giant fire puffer works
'N the torture never stops
The torture never stops
The torture never stops
Never stops
Never stops

Flies all green 'n buzzing
In his dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steaming pig
In a chamber right near there
He eats the snouts 'n the trotters first
The loins 'n the groins is then dispersed
His carving style is well rehearsed
Oh, he stands and shouts
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
And disagree, well no-one durst
He's the best of course of all the worst
(He's the best of course of all the worst)
Some wrong been done, he done it first
(When some wrong been done, he done it first)

An' it stinks so bad, the stones been choking
'N weeping greenish drops
In the room where the iron maiden
Where the torture never stops
The torture never stops
(Where is it?)
The torture never stops
(All right!)
The torture never stops

Ladies and gentlemen, Norman "Blind Lemon" Gunston, a little Aussie bleeder!

This harmonica is a bit dry, y'know. It used to belong to Stevie Wonder, you know? Course um, when I knocked the spit out a whole lotta watermelon seeds came out, you know. It's a bit dry, I just wetted it, y'know.

Well, blow your harmonica, son!

The fun hasn't beginned yet, uh, later on apparently The Mothers are gonna hand out the bingo cards and everything, you know. (It really sucks.) Thank you very much, Mother Superior. You'd think he'd try electrolysis, wouldn't you?

Flies all green 'n buzzing
In his dungeon of despair
Who are all those people
That he's locked away down there
Are they crazy?
Are they sainted?
Are they heros someone painted?
It has never been explained
Since at first it was created
But a dungeon like a sin
Requires naught but locking in
Of everything that's ever been
Look at her
Look at him
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
That's what's the deal we're dealing in