We hung ourselves on the hooks of Dionysus
We fed ourselves on the fat of it all
Now I need five hands to count up my vices
And ten pretty maidens to bear up my pall
We sing the songs of joy and jubilation
We find ourselves in places in between
We drape ourselves in the flags of every nation
Our hands are dirty but our souls are clean
My spirit is half dwarfed with leaden tidings
Intoxicating riddles fill my brain
But something in me called courage is abiding
As I walk down that long terrible lane
As we march in this parade below the heavens
Our weary hearts awaiting pain to cease
We trust our tears will wash away the sentence
And we raise our glasses to the dawn of peace
We hung ourselves on the hooks of Dionysus
We drank in all the glory of our days
We wait for what the future will provide us
And we sing our songs of love along the way
