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!