Saturday is a mile away.
I still feel his burning flames.
As I walk through death again.
Saturday burns my skin with white.
He marks it "6" with a silver knife.
As I feel his breath again.
I know he loves me.
I know he must.
My life for you.
Voodoo dust.
Drowning only feet from the shore.
Sleeping an endless sleep.
But violently awake, we wait.
We walk the thousand yards he lays for us.
We do his work his will is thus.
Violently awake, we wait.
We know he loves us.
We know he must.
We die for you.
Voodoo dust.
(Μια τραγουδίστρια με φωνή - κρύσταλλο, ήχος που δεν χρειάζεται να λερωθεί και πολύ για να σε ανυψώσει, και μια επιδρομή κιθαριστικών ακροβασιών που σε οδηγεί αυτομάτως στην παραγγελιά άλλης μια μπύρας - και τρίτης, και τέταρτης...)