Albore

Freedom's such a naughty word

And its meaning's such a mess

I will tell this story straight

Don't blame me, 'tis how it goes

There was a town Known as Albore

"Welcome to our bacchanalia, be our host"

The city of lust, no men of law

Punishments are gone

Ecstasy's reborn!

Crowded, like a myrtle bloom

(Crowded like a myrtle bloom)

Mixed up bodies, mingled legs

Crammed streets in such a mess

(Crammed streets in such a mess)

Wish that happen everywhere

The banker stood up to the hord

He shouted to the crowd "God will burn your soul"

That treacherous foe, he called the troops

Then the fire rushed in, every place was burnt

The city withered like Nero's Rome

What would happen then? Wanna hear it? Listen on

There's not a town known as Albore

Two Libertines survived, starring our next song