On Mondays murder children, little girls and boys 
I put my hands around their throats till they don't make 
a noise 
Tuesdays torture animals, pluck off small birds wings 
Watch them as they bleed to death, then they don't sing 
Wednesdays I defecate on the priest's front door 
If the priest he does complain, I just do it some more 
Thursdays I Molatov the local orphans home 
Love those little orphans, charred down to the bone 

I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed 
To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd 

On Fridays sodomize tender virgin nuns 
Tie them up, lear at them, and then I have my fun 
Saturdays I stand and sing my sad, sad, sick, sick songs 
To anyone who listen, who in the head is wrong 
Sundays, Sundays, the day I love the best 
Rape, murder, pillage while other people rest 

I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed 
To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd 
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed 
But when I do offend someone it makes me feel so proud