Decemberists. The Crane Wife. Shankhill Butchers. Zeneszám

The Shankill Butchers ride tonight
You better shut your windows tight
They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives
And taking all their whiskey by the pint

'Cuz everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The Shankill Butchers wanna catch you awake

They used to be just like me and you
They used to be sweet little boys
But something went horribly askew
Now killing is their only source of joy

'Cuz everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The Shankill Butchers wanna catch you awake

The Shankill Butchers on the rise
They're waiting until the dead of night
They're picking at their fingers with their knives
And wiping off their cleavers on their thighs

'Cuz everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The Shankill Butchers wanna catch you
The Shankill Butchers wanna cut you
The Shankill Butchers wanna catch you awake
Awake, awake, awake