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Like a Mississippi wind-chime in the breeze |
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Dangling down from the sycamore tree |
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Like a vessel of rats shattered on the ground |
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Old Judge Slitz struck the hammer down |
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Its dust to dust to angel lust |
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For ol' Saint Angeline |
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Aunt Jemime |
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..left in the Christmas plow |
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I wouldn't take a dollar from a german now |
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The laughter and slaughter and the lies and beliefs |
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Cause my carbon footprint is six feet deep |
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Its dust to dust to angel lust |
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For ol' Saint Angeline |
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Aunt Jemime |
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Well the lord may condemn me but my baby forgives |
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She'll meet me inside the final ... |
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... |
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Showered on my baby like a flower boquet |
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Its dust to dust to angel lust |
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For ol' Saint Angeline |
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Aunt Jemime |
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So cast your useless sabers aside |
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Make the devil eat his hat, set his head on fire |
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It all comes out(?) same way in the end |
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The meat slides out in the shape of the can |
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Its dust to dust to angel lust |
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For ol' Saint Angeline |
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Aunt Jemime |
