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Dirty Rotten Bums
More power to the people
In toppling the crooked steeple
Launch it like a missile
Use it as a weapon
Aim it at the Vatican
Send a message to the Man
No longer are we taking it
We're sick of them faking it
Hands off the altar boy
He's not for your own personal joy
He's not there to be your sex toy
You dirty rotten bums!
Why don't you admit to your flock
That you enjoy the feel of young cock
While you're in the zone
Condemning the behavior of gays
Why don't you try being honest for a spell
Instead of proclaiming they'll burn in Hell
That they'll rot for all Eternity
For their sinful ways
It's hypnosis
Terminal hypocrisy is the only diagnosis
And if I had a scalpel
I'd cut you out
Cleanse the Church of this disease
Lay my hands on
Cast out every sleaze
That speaketh with a forked tongue
Even though they craveth it up the bung
More power to the people
In toppling the crooked steeple
Send a message to the Man
No longer are we taking it
We're sick of them faking it
And tired of taking it
In the rear
Because those dirty rotten bums refuse
To admit they're queer
__________________
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Approach the mirrored reflection saying his name three times : "Butcher .... Butcher .... Butcher ....."
and wait to see if this Bogeyman urban legend manifests in the background, looming over shoulder
While your neighbors were busy killing off everyone in the neighborhood
with your own butcher knife in hand concealed behind your back
you stood for
ever before the window saying
nothing
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