时间：2025-11-01
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Dark Folk Music | The President's Friends - GHOST OF THE SOUTH
They sit in their chairs
High backed and gold
A circle of whispers
A story half told
Cigars in their fingers
The room smells of skins
They speak in a language
That silences dreams
The President's friends
They smile, they grin
Behind every curtain
They pull us in
The President's friends
They twist and they trade
The lines on the map
The deals that are made
The worker digs deep
His hands in the clay
While they toast to the game
That they'll never play
A farmer's last acre
A miner's last breath
They count up the winnings
And tally the rest
The wind, it don't carry
Their sins
But the way
It always begins
The President's friends
They smile, they grin
Behind every curtain
They pull us in
The President's friends
They twist and they trade
The lines on the map
The deals that are made
The road to nowhere
But the toll's been paid
Every mile they own
Every promise they trade
The flags that they wave
The stories they sell
Do you hear it?
The hammer
The knell
