11122

Lyrics

​(Verse 1)
The Florida sun was scorching, the Rough Riders stood in line
But my father saw the casualty lists and said, “Son, you’ll be just fine.”
With a heavy purse and a senator’s word, he shifted my fate’s design
Away from the Spanish Mausers to the Qing Dynasty’s vine.
He told me Peking was a postcard, a city of silk and tea
Where a boy of status could spend his days in quiet luxury.
No San Juan Hill, no yellow fever, just the diplomat’s easy pace
He bought me a ticket to safety, or so he thought, in that ancient place.
​(Verse 2)
I walked the Legation Quarter, feeling untouched by the world
While the red-ribboned Boxer banners in the distance slowly unfurled.
I met a man from Prussia there, with eyes like the Baltic Sea
He didn’t care for my father’s gold, he just liked my company.
We’d drink to the Kaiser and the President as the summer air grew thin
He laughed at the talk of uprising, said the walls would never cave in.
One night he handed me a heavy weight, cold steel and a wooden grip
A Bergmann eighteen-sixty-nine, to keep upon my hip.
​(Chorus)
Oh, they can keep their polished medals, they can keep their hollow fame
I’m just a ghost in the Tartar City, screaming out my name.
The sky is black with smoke and ash, the spirits start to moan
I’d give up every cent I have to be back in my home.
Just get me out of this God-forsaken place, away from the burning gate
Before the Bergmann’s hammer falls and seals my final fate.
​(Verse 3)
Then the horizon turned to fire, and the screams began to rise
The "Righteous Harmony" was coming with vengeance in their eyes.
Barricaded in the British yard, we watched the temples glow
While the German stood beside me, watching the shadows grow.
The canals ran red with the morning light, the shells began to scream
This wasn’t the peaceful holiday of my father’s foolish dream.
I look at the pistol in my hand, a gift from a friend now grim
As we pray for the relief column appearing on the rim.
​(Bridge)
Fifty-five days of thunder, fifty-five nights of dread
Eating horsemeat in the hallways, sleeping among the dead.
My father’s strings are broken now, they can’t pull me from this hell
I’m trapped behind the brickwork, ringing the funeral bell.
​(Chorus)
Oh, they can keep their polished medals, they can keep their hollow fame
I’m just a ghost in the Tartar City, screaming out my name.
The sky is black with smoke and ash, the spirits start to moan
I’d give up every cent I have to be back in my home.
Just get me out of this God-forsaken place, away from the burning gate
Before the Bergmann’s hammer falls and seals my final fate.
​(Outro)
Take the brass, take the glory, take it all away
I just want to see a sunrise where the world isn’t grey.
Get me out...
Just get me out...
The Bergmann’s cold... and I’m so far from home.