"Oh, Dookie bird..." "That makes my own darkness seem trivial by comparison, but..." [Verse 1] I found them kneeling in the dusk— Pale robes, red sores, skin like husks. St. Acrysius rang their bells, But no one’s saved who lives in hell. I cut them down. I said no prayer. Their silence followed me from there. [Chorus] The work is never done. (...never done...) The road is never clear. (...never ever clear...) The fire comes from heaven— But I still draw near. (I still draw neaaarr...) I swing the sword, I clear what rots— A hyena in the plague, And this road never stops. (...It never stops...) [Verse 2] At Sargasso, the dead still sing— Voices bloated, rotting things. They squeezed their sores like sacred wine. They begged. I crossed the final line. Excalibur lit open the hall— I left with blood still warm on the walls. [Chorus] The work is never done. (...never done...) The road is never clean. (...never ever clean..) I fight through storm and sickness— No one fights for me. (No one fights for meeee...) I swing the sword, I clear what rots— A hyena in the dark, And this road never stops. (...It never, ever stops) [Verse 3] St. Rugen prayed to crawling beasts— Rat-eyed monks in holy feasts. Their altars writhed, the walls were caked— With nests and skins the vermin make. I laid them out for flies to sup— Their gods were small, their time was up. [Verse 4] And Valdemar—the sky went black. The fire fell, the heavens cracked. They rushed me screaming, wrapped in flame— And still I came. And still I came. Through burning stone and charcoal skin, I carved until the ash caved in. [Final Chorus] The work is never done. (...never done...) The blood is never dry. (...never ever dry...) The sword is bright as judgment— And I do not cry. (No, I don't ever cry...) I swing the sword, I clear what rots— A hyena with no rest, And this road never stops. (...It never, ever stops...) [Outro] The work is never done... The work is never, ever done... THE WORRRRK IS NEVER EVER DONE....! "Keep it going, Zeb!"
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