Oh, What rotten luck
You must think you've got
Fodder for the arbiter
If you don't deserve love
Than who does
You can conjure up a God and pray it stops
Or become a masochist and never get off
The skin you peeled away revealed
The organ you pride
Your father's house is better now
Without him inside
It feels right
We could have atrophied, and withered and died
Just as unhappily you'll bury your bride
Fodder, it bought silence
Cauterized your eyelids
Spectre, got a dead one
For the pyre, another witch hunt
Heathen, all you needed
Was the good book, just keep reading
Jesus, see what he's done
Made it filthy for the vermin
Father, it got violent
It's a rapture for a tyrant
My love is a dead one
She's a victim of a witch hunt
Heathen, I don't need it
It's a bad book, I stopped reading
Spirit, got a live one
What a phoenix, what a virgin