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You say you found Jesus Christ |
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he's the only one |
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you say you found Buddah |
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sittin' in the sun, |
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you say you found Mohammed |
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facin' to the east |
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you say you found Krishna |
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dancin' in the street. |
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Well, there's somethin' missin' in this god almighty stew |
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and it's your mother, |
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your mother, don't forget your mother, lad. |
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You gotta serve yourself |
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nobody gonna do it for you |
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you gotta serve yourself |
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nobody gonna do it for you |
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well, you may believe in devils and you may believe in laws |
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but if you don't go out and serve yourself, lad (ain't no room service here....?......) |
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It's still the same old story |
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a bloody holy war |
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a fight for love and glory |
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ain't gonna study war no more |
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a fight for god and country |
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we're gonna set you free |
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we'll put you back in the stone age |
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if you won't be like me. |
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Get it? |
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You gotta serve yourself |
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ain't nobody gonna do it for you |
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you gotta serve yourself |
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ain't nobody gonna do it for you |
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yeah, you may believe in devils and you may believe and laws |
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but Christ, you gonna have to serve yourself and that's all there is to it. |
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So get right back here, it's in the bloody fridge! |
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God, when I was a kid, we didn't have stuff like this, T.V. Fuckin' dinners and all that crap! |
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You fuckin' kids, all fuckin' the same, want a fuckin' car now? |
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Lucky to have a pair of shoes? |
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You tell me you've found Jesus Christ, |
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that's great and he's the only one |
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you say you've just found Buddah |
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and he's sittin' on his arse in the sun, |
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you say you found Mohammed |
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kneelin' on a bloody carpet, facin' east |
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you say you found Krishna |
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with his bald head, dancin' in the street |
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well, Christ now and you're bein' heard. |
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You gotta serve yourself |
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ain't nobody gonna do it for you, that's right lad |
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you better get that straight into your fuckin' head! |
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You gotta serve yourself, you know that, who else is gotta do that for you |
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it ain't me, kid, I tell you that. |
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Well you may believe in Jesus |
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and you may believe in Marx |
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and you may believe in Marks and Spencers |
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and you may even believe in bloody woolworths |
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but there's something missin' in this whole bloody stew |
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and it's your mother, your poor bloody mother |
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she worked for you in the back bedroom |
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full of piss and shit and fuckin' midwives |
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god, you can't forget that awful moment, you know |
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you should have been in the bloody war, lad, and you would know all about it |
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well, I'll tell you somethin', |
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It's still the same old story |
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a holy bloody war |
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you know with the pope and all that stuff |
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a fight for love and glory |
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ain't gonna study no more war |
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I fight for god and country and the queen and all that |
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we're gonna set you free, yeah, |
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bomb ya back into the fuckin' stone age if you won't be like me |
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you know, now get down on your knees and pray |
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well, there's something missin' in this god almighty stew |
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and it's your god damn mother, you dirty little git |
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now get in there and was your ears. |
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Ha-ha-ha |
