I am the champion of what is right.
I am possessed of superhuman power.
Let evildoers all beware my might.
It matters not if it is day or night,
When there are villains, then it is my hour.
I am the champion of what is right.
Like an avenging angel I take flight
To deepest, darkest slum or tallest tower.
Let evildoers all beware my might.
I see the world in terms of black and white
Because that’s how it is, but do not cower;
I am the champion of what is right.
I’m always spoiling for another fight
To start and end, so when I’m grim and glower
Let evildoers all beware my might.
As long as draw breath, within my sight
The innocent will have their chance to flower.
I am the champion of what is right.
Let evildoers all beware my might.
I wanted to do something big and clean,
But this is not exactly what I meant.
This is the filthiest beast I’ve ever seen.
I can’t tell if they’re stupid or just mean.
They said to me “go wash an elephant.”
I wanted to do something big and clean.
The grit under my fingernails is green.
My hands are wrinkled. My sore back is bent.
This is the filthiest beast I’ve ever seen.
They’ve given me a mountainside to preen,
To scrub, lather, and rinse away the scent!
I wanted to do something big and clean.
What has this guy been doing, that he’s been
Encrusted so with each base element?
This is the filthiest beast I’ve ever seen.
But, unobserved by me, there grows a gleam
In huge dark ivory eyes, for time well spent.
I wanted to do something big and clean.
This is the cleanest beast I’ve ever seen.
The earth is cracking and the grass is dry.
The sprinkler’s broken, what am I to do?
But heavy clouds are mounting in the sky.
For weeks it seems the air has burned to fry
Beneath a lid of merciless iron blue.
The earth is cracking and the grass is dry.
I cannot summon breath enough to sigh.
My mouth tastes like the bottom of a shoe.
But heavy clouds are mounting in the sky.
Somewhere against the glass, a single fly
Swats air as thick as leftover beef stew.
The earth is cracking and the grass is dry.
Sweat puddles on my back, a muddy dye
That hardens to a hideous tattoo.
But heavy clouds are mounting in the sky.
It feels like this, and only just July,
With August still to come, September too?
The earth is cracking and the grass is dry.
Out of these depths, to you, oh Lord, I cry!
And then again from depths I cry to you!
But heavy clouds are mounting in the sky.
Then suddenly, soft silky shade glides by.
The sun cools. My spent spirit can renew.
The earth is cracking and the grass is dry,
But heavy clouds are mounting in the sky.
Songs to Setirov. 