My lover's got humour 
She's the giggle at a funeral 
Knows everybody's disapproval 
I should've worshiped her sooner 
If the Heavens ever did speak 
She is the last [bad word] mouthpiece 
Every Sunday's getting more bleak 
fresh poison each week 
'We were born sick,' you heard them say it 
My church offers no absolutes 
She tells me 'worship in the bedroom' 
The only heaven I'll be sent to 
Is when I'm alone with you 
I was born sick, but I love it  [bad word] me to be well 
Amen. Amen. Amen 

 [bad word] x2]
Take me to church 
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies 
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife 
Offer me that deathless death 
Good God, let me give you my life 

If I'm a pagan of the good times 
My lover's the sunlight 
To keep the Goddess on my side 
She demands a sacrifice 
To drain the whole sea 
Get something shiny 
Something meaty for the main course 
That's a fine looking high horse 
What you got in the stable? 
We've a lot of starving faithful 
That looks tasty 
That looks plenty 
This is hungry work 

 [bad word] x2]

No masters or kings when the ritual begins 
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin 
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene 
Only then I am human 
Only then I am clean 
Amen. Amen. Amen 

 [bad word] x2]