Fighting In The Dancehall Lyrics

Goldblade Fighting In The Dancehall

Victorian Turrets of wealth and empire greed
Paid by the sweat of trade and colonial grief
A mediaeval curse stains this land
The middle ages never seem to end

Caravaggio cursed lesser men
Drew his sword and murdered some of them
Revenge is a dish best served cold
An artist lives life with his own rules

Fighting in the dancehall, f..cking in the streets