Saturday Night
Peter Wolf Crier
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Labored on your subject moans
Damn I never once claimed
All that you stole
Poor in heart and rich in sin
Desperate for your drink
And stripped of my kin
When the summer rain
Was all she wrote
The lord's pity tears
Don't fall no more
So if you'd be so kind
Not to writhe
I'll claim all you owe
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Your empty sight is all I hold
Hands cupped from drought
I approach your throne
Cause my queen you mean
So much to me I swear
I'll be swift upon your throat
When the summer rain was all she wrote
The lord's pity tears don't fall no more
So if you'd be so kind not to writhe
I'll claim all that I'm owed
I'll claim all that I owe
I'll claim all that I'm owed