The Golden Age Of Bloodshed (Howard Rowland S.)

The signs in the sky won't let up The clouds assume the shape Of Catholic girls with Uzis All of them on the make All of them out to make a million By the time they hit thirteen And it's all in the colour of the old sun setting This brand new age of blood letting And it's all in the eyes of me I'm suspicious of my wife I suspect she left long ago I recall my finger on the button of the ejector seat But I can't recall letting her go The electric Christ has canonised her She's surrounded by a chemical glow It has to be said It's today's edition of the book of the dead It has to be said In this worst of all possible worlds On this planet of perpetual sorrows I found the best of all possible girls She's as pure and white and bright As tomorrow My life plays like Grand Guignol Blood and portents everywhere They say they can't remove these signs from my eyes But I suspect that they just don't care I've got a harsh new brand of aftershave That gives you that thousand yard stare Why can't you get it through your head Now is the golden age of bloodshed It needs to be said In this worst of all possible worlds On this planet of perpetual sorrows I found the best of all possible girls She's pure and white and bright As tomorrow