Rump

Rump! Doom, doom, doom, doom.
Rump! Doom, doom, doom, doom.
4 - 7 - 2 - 9 - 6!
4 - 7 - 2 - 9 - 6!
4 - 7 - 2 - 9 - 6!
4 - 7 - 2 - 9 - 6!

Beads of sweat reflecting in the hot Egyptian sun.
Muscles raw and searing though the day has just begun.
Heaving heavy boulders, dragging hammers through the sand.
No way we can shoulder the exertions they demand.

And even though we outnumber them by far,
Egypt's government holds the crown and slaves is all we are.
Slaves is all we are!

Our callouses are open and there's sand beneath our lids,
But, Lord we have been fruitful and we've made some extra kids.
So lay down that first tier and don't let the rope slide.
Here's comes the overseer, make sure that knot's tied!

Tensions swell to the point they may well burst.
What we need is a miracle
To block the pharoah's crushing staff
And free us from our master's wrath
And silence his enraging laugh
And lead us down the path that we chose first!


(Maury Loeb - co-author
Mitch Rotter - co-author)

No recording available
Copyright 1993 Zach London

Hard Taco Radio

Discography