Tempest blows up from a squall Past the Cape of Bad Conscience into the Gulf of the Cauldron Roars over the coastline to batter and flatten Exposing the roots like in the dyed hair of slattern The scrapper and mauler in a rope ring this small Outside the wind is punchin', there's no one to hear it No one hears the bell ring except the one who comes to fear it And they continue to brawl He's buyin' his way into heaven I suppose He weeps at the blows But down in a location that we cannot disclose He turns the dial slowly Through the Stations of the Cross Crowd done up dandy in diamonds and finery Bayin' and howlin', all blood-lusty callin' Fists like pistons, faces like meat spoilin' Haul, boys, haul, bully-boys, haul Later in the evenin', Molly and her gunman Go down the stairs to the dive like a dungeon Meanwhile in the backroom, there's a girl like a sponge Sayin', "Bring him along as a constable's truncheon" The gunman wants Molly to kingdom come Then blows them all to the hereafter Who's scuttling away now and hidden from our view? Who tightened the tourniquet, turning her blue? They're hurlin' themselves into heaven I suppose Before the gates are closed But down in a location that we cannot disclose They turn the dial slowly Through the Stations of the Cross The gale of hale laughter scales up the ivory Black keys of her fine whine descend into the minor Die away breathless diminishin' behind her Haul, boys, haul, bully-boys, haul The water came up to the eaves You'd think someone had opened a valve It's too soon to stay now and too late to leave So spare your remorse all the way up to Calvary They're hurlin' themselves into heaven I suppose Before the gates are closed But down in a location that we cannot disclose They turn the dial slowly Through the Stations of the Cross Through the Stations of the Cross Through the Stations of the Cross