New martyrs swinging in the wind The dead eyes searching for messiahs in
The stars The bodies carrying the scars of no confession, no concession
No sympathy The laughter from the front row buzzing loudly now in bars,
Over chicken in a basket, in the darkest corners of the Central Station
Passing round the spirit that drove Rommel to his desert hole, smashed
Diamonds, stripped the gold from hidden cities in Brazil And killed the
Savage in the name of Mary Burn the witch, whip the bitch who shows her
Ankles on the Sabbath Bring the kids aged 1 to 63 - the family treat
Maybe there will be a vision of messiahs in the stars Now all confess and
Make a wish The priest is passing round the dishour Lady's selling
Tissues for the tears, for all the years of blessed rape in the name of
Our sweet lord