One Hundred Years - The Cure

It doesn't matter if we all die

ambition in the back of a black car

in a high building there is so much to do

going home time

a story on the radio

something small falls out of your mouth

and we laugh

a prayer for something better

a prayer

for something better

Please love me

meet my mother

but the fear takes hold

creeping up the stairs in the dark

Waiting for the death blow

waiting for the death blow

waiting for the death blow

stroking your hair as the patriots are shot

fighting for freedom on the television

sharing the world with slaughtered pigs

have we got everything?

she struggles to get away . . .

The pain

and the creeping feeling

a little black haired girl

waiting for saturday

the death of her father pushing her

pushing her white face into the mirror

aching inside me

and turn me round

just like the old days

just like the old days

just like the old days

just like the old days

Caressing an old man

and painting a lifeless face

just a piece of new meat in a clean room

the soldiers close in under a yellow moon

all shadows and deliverance

under a black flag

a hundred years of blood

crimson

the ribbon tightens round my throat

i open my mouth

and my head bursts open

a sound like a tiger thrashing in the water

thrashing in the water

over and over

we die one after the other

over and over

we die one after the other

one after the other

one after the other

one after the other

one after the other

It feels like a hundred years

a hundred years

a hundred years

a hundred years

a hundred years

one hundred years