The Secret Machines. Pharaoh's Daughter. Zeneszám

Hold on, the recent exchange
Is just another face arranged
By the knife edge of time
And just another waste of mine

I wonder was that the Pharaoh's Daughter
Or the wealth I still remember?

We were dressed in uniforms left over from the war
A tourniquet, an iron vest, our emblem was a star
The younger ones looked frightened left unguarded by the clouds
While sons of fire with trembling hands burned heroes to the ground

I wonder, was that the famous daughter
Of the well heeled revolving oh so fine?
While we were building caskets
For boys with leather jackets

The girl's quite familiar