Tempest blows up from a squall

Past the Cape of Bad Conscience into the Gulf of the Cauldron

Roars over the coastline to batter and flatten

Exposing the roots like in the dyed hair of slattern The scrapper and mauler in a rope ring this small

Outside the wind is punchin', there's no one to hear it

No one hears the bell ring except the one who comes to fear it

And they continue to brawl He's buyin' his way into heaven I suppose

He weeps at the blows

But down in a location that we cannot disclose

He turns the dial slowly

Through the Stations of the Cross Crowd done up dandy in diamonds and finery

Bayin' and howlin', all blood-lusty callin'

Fists like pistons, faces like meat spoilin'

Haul, boys, haul, bully-boys, haul Later in the evenin', Molly and her gunman

Go down the stairs to the dive like a dungeon

Meanwhile in the backroom, there's a girl like a sponge

Sayin', "Bring him along as a constable's truncheon" The gunman wants Molly to kingdom come

Then blows them all to the hereafter

Who's scuttling away now and hidden from our view?

Who tightened the tourniquet, turning her blue? They're hurlin' themselves into heaven I suppose

Before the gates are closed

But down in a location that we cannot disclose

They turn the dial slowly

Through the Stations of the Cross The gale of hale laughter scales up the ivory

Black keys of her fine whine descend into the minor

Die away breathless diminishin' behind her

Haul, boys, haul, bully-boys, haul The water came up to the eaves

You'd think someone had opened a valve

It's too soon to stay now and too late to leave

So spare your remorse all the way up to Calvary They're hurlin' themselves into heaven I suppose

Before the gates are closed

But down in a location that we cannot disclose

They turn the dial slowly

Through the Stations of the Cross

Through the Stations of the Cross Through the Stations of the Cross