Holy shamoly said the priest to the girl

As he wrapped his arms around her

And his guts became her world

She said I can't take any more

No I can't take any more

And she could taste the christ

Breath the church

Smell the crucifixion

Of another fallen angel hooked up on false religion

She's gotta hole for a soul

She's gotta sad sad tale to tell

She's gotta hole for a soul

Of being twisted in a living hell



Crikey moses he said with bottle in his hand

Fingers worn thin down to the bone

From working on the promised land

Fingers worn thin tattered and torn from scratching

All this blood and sand

Said I can't take any more

No I can't take any more

He had a loving wife

Doting child

An englishman's castle for his home

Every mile stood this broken man

And every two stood this broken man's dream



He's gotta hole for a soul

He's gotta sad sad tale to tell

He's gotta hole for a soul

Of being twisted in a living hell