Drawn out like a neck Sweet masseuse of rope And repeating, jamming cogs That form a threadbare noose Start-stop, start-stop Dangling, twitching Trapdoor springboard Thermopylae's a broken record I've got both lens and the audience to fight You can spin the reel however you like But the Spartans always die At the end of the film Clawing hands of tar Discordant klaxons screaming bloody murder A beggar's belief But believe me We've nearly even scratched the surface