Somebody get me a priest!
That is to say, to say the least
This beast would make us quite a feast
At least it will not taste
Like yeast
To bread, they raise our dead
And in your bed when you lay your head
as your mind begins to tread….
Through the shallows and into the deep
You creep and creep on through endless sleep
Till you find the steep to take the leap
For faith(less)
People you don’t have nearly enough time on your hands
Or dirt for that matter
You wash both off in such a
Hurry, hurry, scurry, scurry, worry, worry
Only about what you can see
Ignore the cry, ignore the plea
destroy the wise and crush the
Free(dom)
Tucked into an empty room
swept under the cracks with a steel wire broom
Free doom passed out a social event
as they loom and gloom inside their
Tents (tenths)
Of thousands of monsters, they’re gathered in force
They’re sitting and praying their power form source
How now did our souls get so
Coarse? (Course)
Of the vessel has reached home at last
With the wind in the sails no remorse for the mast
Mounting the whores with thoughts of the past
Mounted on horse the holly spell has been cast
The battle’s begun and was won just as
Fast(en)
The fire, prepare for the meal
Bring out the bottles and break all the seals
Mount the head on the wall, make a coat form it’s peel
While giving thanks as you kneel for the feel of the steel(steal)
All that is real and staying true to
A de(a)l(inquint)
Memory a rethink wont hold
The Fink went to town and sold old tolds like a mould
Saying drink from my glass, toke the smoke that I rolled
whilst putting zinc into golden cups of the
Bo(u)ld(ers)
From Heaven tumble down on to Hell
throwing stones making wishes as I fill up the well
The Monks on the far side are ringing the bell
Singing feast with us, feast with us, the enemy’s
Fell(ow)
Would you pour me another pint of ale?
“Hell no, Not when the whore’s free, or did the cow kick the pail?”
I know no more of the harlot than the sow or the whale
but somewhere in Venice a merchant is hot on the trail
Of a highbred contraption, crossed with a sieve and a scale
And down below all the D-Men are tryna make bail
But none but one can redeem them as the gale winds a wail
awaiting news from the mail male whilst swinging their
Ta(i)l(es)
Of the gifted propagated by hogs
Out on a limb, stuck in limbo, like a bump on a log
And from the smog of the bog, their chants roll in with the fog
forwards and backwards
!goD liveD as a deviL doG