Silver Faces

We are the people with silver faces
Grey at the ball game, grey at the races
The top hats, top dogs, they hold all the aces
Our place is on the line, we dance in time
We are the wheels and cogs

We are the people with silver faces
We raised great stones across the gone dark ages
For wizards, warlocks, on moorlands and oases
Our place is in the line, we dance in time
Our feet bleed into the rocks

Cry, the lure was moon rock
They promised us the moonshine rock
Pure moon rock

We are the people with silver faces
Clay in the hands of those in high places
The waters under the warlord's navies
Our place is in the line, we dance in time
And we fall in the mort thunder

We are the people with silver faces
Framed in slip knots, veiled in grimaces
For despots and popes in their hiding places
Our space is on the line, we dance in time
Still riddles on the ends of the ropes

Cry, the lure was moon rock
They promised us the moonshine rock
Pure moon rock

We are the people with silver faces
Waiting outside the labour exchanges
Doleful flat hats, nothing ever changes
Our place is on the line, we dance in time
For the grease in our empty caps

We are the people with silver faces
We never saw the view throughout the ages
The top hats, top dogs, they held all the aces
Our place is in the line, we dance in time
We are the wheels and cogs

Cry, the lure was moon rock
They promised us the moonshine rock
Pure moon rock