Syn - The Golden Filter

From the gloomy halls of Hades

Twelve girls are born of queens

No one to judge their tears

Kicked away from sleep

Always told no mother

It’s gone now

You hate them

They’re cold

But the star became alive

Dirty, pretty girls

Tears did not, stop them and

They wanted to sing and dance

and be happy

Pretty girls

Faces grow older

Begin to master secrets

Polished with deliverance

They took from life

Dirty, dirty girls

Dirty, pretty girls

Sing and dance

Dirty, pretty girls

They sing and dance

Dirty, pretty girls

Through the glass of a dirty window

Making a space to look on through

There is dissolve in the falling apart

And will see at once the world at large

If you make a disease, will you tell her everything

Stopping them coming back for more

The dirty, dirty girls

Dirty, pretty girls

Sing and dance

Dirty, pretty girls

They sing and dance

Dirty, pretty girls