Our Lady

war, revolution, death

Cobblestone roads, cobblestone roads,

How lovely you look covered in wine.

Our beautiful lady, glinting so severely,

She comes crashing down.

More wine spills freely,

And the line moves along.

Our lady, our lady,

How precious you are,

The stench and tears do not bother you,

And the line moves along

As more wine spills.

Our lady, our lady,

On a cobblestone road,

How lovely you look,

Covered in the wine of the wealthy,

As the line moves along.