The Saints

[Music & Lyrics: Weikath] Gimme gimme sell your souls I skin and strip you bold(ly) My revenue ain't yours All means my way, I'm mighty I clutch what's mine, yours sevenfold I leave you in the cold Got all my schemes in place You stifle in my maze All you shysters Seek shelter on the last day While you laugh loud, disclaiming As your dire end will come/dawn on you Ah you..! Possesed, in your mask, and a dirty heart Unrest in ye must've been the devil in all of us The saints are marching again And harvest souls Taking every single one The saints march again And harmony Is here, ye can go testify Don't you dream you're ever safe I'll get you in your grave Go molest your heirs with my sleight of hand attorneys -I Profit at your dear expense Cash in, perform my prance Relinquish and lose what you toiled for, anyway