Текст песни British Assassin - Dan Bull
Over
oceans,
civilisations
behold
The
UK
taking
control
A
naval
nation
of
old
Built
on
a
foundation
of
coal
That
was
taken
and
sold
So
they
could
pave
it
with
gold
To
make
the
altars
that
they
failed
to
use
to
pray
for
the
souls
Who
excavated
and
rolled
Trains
into
stations
to
mould
The
global
stage
where
they
were
playing
a
role
For
those
who'd
later
withold
Them
from
the
tale
that
was
told
To
fete
the
brave
and
the
bold
So
they
could
claim
it
was
stole
Instead
they
lay
in
deprivation
and
cold
Poor
sanitation
and
mold
Without
a
savior
to
follow
It's
not
like
they
can
enrol
Rebel
or
make
an
assault
HALT,
enter
Evie
Frye
and
Jacob
Revolt
I
am
a
British
assassin
Rather
proficient
in
fashion
Look
in
the
mirror,
yeah,
the
image
is
dashing
I'm
sending
a
Templar
to
hell
On
every
single
ring
of
Big
Ben's
Bell
I
am
a
British
assassin
Me
and
my
sister
are
cashing
in
On
the
city's
riches
and
it's
flipping
cracking
I
send
a
templar
unto
the
grave
For
every
soot
stained
cobble
with
which
London
is
paved
This
is
a
major
event
So
you
best
pay
Jacob
attention
In
in
age
of
innovation,
invention
Evie
and
me
are
the
train
and
the
engine
Slicing
straight
through
the
tension
With
a
hidden
blade
to
the
tendon
How
clear
can
I
state
my
intention?
Fed
up
of
Gentry
living
rent
free
While
peasants
pay
an
arm
and
a
leg
for
entry
Don't
send
for
a
detective
Let
me
make
this
Elementary:
I'm
that
assassin
other
chaps
try
and
pretend
to
be
My
enemy's
enemy's
potentially
a
friend
to
me
From
Ezio
and
Edward
Kenway
through
to
Henry
Green
Killing
is
our
business
and
in
business
we're
immensely
keen
Roughing
up
these
gangs
Although
there's
nothing
in
my
hands
But
for
a
couple
of
brass
knuckles
And
a
kukri
that
I
swang'
From
the
stricken
slums
of
Southwark
To
the
suckers
in
the
strand
Suddenly
snuck
into
a
cab
And
then
I'm
just
another
chap
Strutting,
striding
over
Whitechapel
Landing
in
Lambeth
with
ease
Bite
the
Apple
of
Eden
And
plant
the
seeds
in
London's
streets
Come
and
reap
the
fruits
of
our
labour
And
bite
the
hand
that
feeds
We're
the
gang
Anglia
needs
The
Assassin's
Creed
We
study
war
to
run
like
water
through
the
ruddy
order
Tend
to
every
Templar
starting
with
that
bugger
bloody
Nora
I
make
her
blighters
face
my
blade
and
die
Veins
are
sliced
Baptised
by
the
rain
at
night
They
wish
they
were
safe
and
dry
So
crack
open
a
case
of
wine
Grab
your
glass
and
raise
it
high
Take
your
time
to
say
goodbye
Yours
faithfully,
Jacob
Frye
I
am
a
British
assassin
Rather
proficient
in
fashion
Look
in
the
mirror,
yeah,
the
image
is
dashing
I'm
sending
a
Templar
to
hell
On
every
single
ring
of
Big
Ben's
Bell
I
am
a
British
assassin
Me
and
my
sister
are
cashing
in
On
the
city's
riches
and
it's
flipping
cracking
I
send
a
Templar
unto
the
grave
For
every
soot
stained
cobble
with
which
London
is
paved
(There's
little
more
gory
a
thing
than
Living
in
Victorian
England)
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