The sound of the mortars The music of death Fresh from Moscow Over Volga came to comrades aid City in despair Almost crushed by the Führer's army Oh, it's colder than Hell Hitler's forces advancing A grand symphony

Perverse rites Priests of Sodom preside We are damned Immortal lust Wicked legions come forth Defile the pure The blackened city calls out Enter the temple of sin You must enter the temple of sin Contorted sinners beckon

Throw me in the slam Catch me if you can That you're wearing Tearing me apart New York City blues East side, West side lose Goin' under, rats in the cellar Goin' under, skin's turnin' yellow

But I still miss you. Everything seems like a city of dreams, I never know why, There she's standing in a field of lights, I close my eyes, And I still miss you. And I still miss you, But I still miss you,

Wasn't she a beer drinkin' woman? She was a beer-drinkin' woman The story's true ladies and gentlemen All the names have been changed to Protect the innocent The year nineteen hundred and forty The city, Chicago the place, Rubin's Tavern The story goes

Turn up your night I will find you Make them dance Just like you 'Cause you make me move Yeah you always make go I'll run away with your foot steps I'll build a city that dreams for two And if you lose yourself

And there's nothing wrong with me This is how I'm supposed to be In a land of make believe That don't believe in me City of the dead At the end of another lost highway Signs misleading to nowhere City of the damned Lost children with dirty faces today

Nothing's quite the same as European Vegas So you think you're lonely, you think that you're the only one Baby, listen closely, let me be your number one The city's getting colder, the streets are turning into ice So baby, hold me closer, let me stay for

Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams Ring them bells from the sanctuaries cross the valleys and streams For they're deep and they're wide And the world is on its side And time is running backwards And so is the bride Ring them bells Saint

We're half awake in a fake empire Stay out super late tonight Picking apples, making pies Put a little something in our lemonade And take it with us Tiptoe through our shiny city With our diamond slippers on Do our gay ballet on ice Bluebirds on our