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Turn it on Salvador Drag the bound priest across the floor Skin to shed, God is dead, what to do, so are you Are you? Wake them up, shake 'em up Death and a Gala Premiere Turn it on Salvador Brutally offensive by never a bore Ants in hands, no demands, eying out a point of view Or two Bang them out, hang them up Nothing is what it appears Didn't he say that he likes to make the holes? Time melts away while he tries to make the holes Turn it on Salvador Turn it off Salvador Holy rotting donkey carcass butterfly eeeee... Even tied, eggs you fried, out of luck What the (some 15th century German word)* (Some 15th century German word) Books are guns, biking nuns Ants, sirs, they crawl from the wounds Didn't he say that he likes to make the holes? (Turn it on) Time melts away while he tries to make the holes (Turn it on) Turn it on Salvador Da da da da da da da da... |