In the Colosseum Tom Waits

The women all control their men with razors and with wrists
And the princess squeezes grape juice from a torrid, bloody kiss
What will you be wearing there? The lion or the raven head?
The flesh will all be tearing, but the tale will be my own

In the colosseum
In the colosseum
In the colosseum tonight
In the colosseum
In the colosseum
In the colosseum tonight

This one's for the balcony and this one's for the floor
As the senators decapitate the presidential whore
The bald-headed senators are splashing in the blood
The dogs are having someone who is screaming in the mud

In the colosseum
In the colosseum
In the colosseum tonight
In the colosseum
In the colosseum
In the colosseum tonight

Now it's raining and it's pouring on the pillaging and goring
The constable is swinging from the chains
For the dead, there is no story, no memory, no blame
Their families shout blue murder, but tomorrow it's the same