Toorali - Eleventh He Reaches London

He hates himself, but loves the robe he wears, he drapes himself,

the cold has yet to come

His heart swings to the waves beneath the hull, he dreams of love,

but love has left his world

He spends himself boiling his ethanol fine, he shares it all and leads us to

sing…

Toorali Oorali Oorali Oorali, aye

He says «Dreams are richer than life, so sleep whenever you can,»

I know I shouldn’t repeat this, but I’d love to take my Queen’s neck and then

shout «OFF WITH HER HEAD!»

And paint a cross with her blood

Comparing the one she drew with mine

Well they look the same, they’ll always be the same

And we sang toorali addity and we sang toorali aye, I’m reborn in criminal

empathy, or rather, a blade to the throat

Toorali Oorali Oorali Oorali, aye

Death is my holiday from being alive, as I leave old England behind