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Marched through the bog lands
Marched five hundred miles
Marched into your living room
Unbathed and uninvited
Set fire to everything here to the sea
Marching with the devil's infantry
There's a blackout in the kitchen
Out come the servants and the cooks
Felt a tap upon my shoulder
"Son, that's not how it works"
So I torched the place to see what I could see
And there they were, the devil's infantry
I don't care if you believe it
I won't blame you if you don't
Somehow the devil's paycheck ended up in my account
Like poetry in fire
In the sky for all to see
Guess who's marching with the devil's infantry
There'll be no dancing tonight
There'll be no dancing tonight
There will be no dancing tonight
There'll be no dancing tonight
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