From high up on yer crucifix
You preach about my triple 6
You spit about my this and that
And yank away yer welcome mat
With a coupon jesus christ will save
So don't you christians misbehave
'cuz santa makes the list himself
And he's rotting on the warehouse shelf

And all the boys in the straight-edge scene
are in the basement huffing gasoline
Dead, dead, dead, dead
Yer god is dead to me!
And when the laws of God just make ya pissed
You better become an atheist
Dead, dead, dead, dead
Yer god is dead to me!

When the greed of man is not appeased
All will rot sick and diseased
Once again the fallen towers
The Tortured death of every hour
And at the toll of the final bell
You lead the righteous down to hell
When all the world is dead by dawn
All I ask is bring me along!