The Ballad Of No-face Lyrics

You will say that I'm a bigot
No sir, no sir
I have lots of swishy friends around, I do, I do-dah-do
But a bunch of those together
Can only do the Devil's work, and it's the Devil's work
they do.

Finding beauty in ugly things is alright, to a point
But have you seen that cross-breed of the highbrow and
the low?
It's a note tied to a brick that reads:
"Freedom, foul freedom! We are free to foul whatever, and
we will."

Why can't you people see? Theirs is a life of mimicry They are fathers without sons or daughters
They are bathers at the mouth of a literary delta
It isn't poetry
It's an orchestration, orchestration of our own demise

And you'll call me a bigot, or a dog in the manger
But I've seen them in the commons with their kerchiefs
and tattoos
And a bunch of those together
Can only do the Devil's work, and it's the Devil's work
they do

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