Lyrics:
brought to you
By Xerox in four parts without commercial interruptions
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle
And leading
Just like the girlies back at corner store
Wash my bugle boy a watching my throne
Sweet mutilation of a sold to nothing man
Lord have mercy shake is
strumming your guitar
I could hear the distant drums
And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar
They were closer now Fernando
Every hour every minute
Three notes, a bugle call
A black man in overalls
Arrives to empty the trash
Hauls it to a metal hatch
A doorway opens up
To the underworld
The boy
know it must have hurt you
It must have hurt your pride
To have to stand beneath my window
With your bugle and your drum
And me I'm up there waiting
and fall, bugle call
Bone splinter in the driving rain
Horses scream, Viking dream
Drowned heroes in a lake of blood
Armored fist, severed wrist
Broken
of 'em beatin' on the drum
They stepped so high and they made the bugles ring
Well, we stood beside our cotton bales and never sayed a thing
Well, we
karma drawn up in lines
And two Bugle Boy models saying "baby it's a freebie
You sure look deprived." I had the
Story of O in my bucket seat
Of my
marry me.
I hear the sound of bugles blowing,
Far away, far away.
And if they call, then I must go
Across the sea, so wild and gray.
So, Mary,
I had a shiny red top
A bugle with a big brass bell would cheer me up
Or maybe something bigger that could really go pop
So I could make
the bugle sounded clear
laid him in his grave when the victory was near
While we waited for the future for freedom through the land (*)
The country gained
to be saved
There was something in the air that made us kind of weary
By the time we got to Swansea it was getting dark
Tumble, jungles, bugles
I'm a soldier boy
Standing on the battlefield
And I hear the bugle call
Calling me to my destiny
All around me is people falling down.
I'm
on the seashore and the other in the sand
I will stand here plaiting daisies whilst you play the piano-grand
Caprice, your bugle blew away the cobwebs from my
fought for are lost in the fray
Standards and bugles are trod in the dust
Wounds have burst open, and corridors rust
Once proud and truthful, now
for are lost in the fray
Standards and bugles are trod in the dust
Wounds have burst open, and corridors rust
Once proud and truthful, now humbled
a hundred of 'em beatin' on the drum
Stepped so high and they make their bugles ring
We stood behind our cotton bales and didn't say a thing
Well they ran
See our numbers still increasing
Hear the bugles blow.
By our union we shall triumph
Over every foe.
Hold the fort
For we are coming,
Union men
know it must have hurt you
It must have hurt your pride
To have to stand beneath my window
With your bugle and your drum
And me I'm up there waiting
a hundred
Of 'em beatin' on the drum
Stepped so high and they
Make their bugles ring
We stood behind our cotton bales
And didn't say a thing
Well they ran
and fall, bugle call
Bone splinter in the driving rain
Horses scream, Viking dream
Drowned heroes in a lake of blood
Armored fist, severed wrist
Broken
And burn the banks down while the bugles played.
Sometimes I get down,
But it's not you that gets me down,
It's just that sense of the impossible,
*chorus*
And they laid him in his grave while the bugle sounded clear
Laid him in his grave when the victory was near
While we waited for the future for
the river and we see the limeys come
Musta been a hunnert of 'em beatin' on a drum
And then they stepped so high and they made the bugles ring
We hid
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