"My God"

People -- what have you done --
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion --
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing --
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything --
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England --
in chains of history --
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who --
with His plastic crucifix --
he's got him fixed --
confuses me as to who and where and why --
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin --
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.

"Hymn 43"

Oh father high in heaven -- smile down upon your son
whose busy with his money games -- his women and his gun.
Oh Jesus save me!
And the unsung Western hero killed an Indian or three
and made his name in Hollywood
to set the white man free.
Oh Jesus save me!
If Jesus saves -- well, He'd better save Himself
from the gory glory seekers who use His name in death.
Oh Jesus save me!
I saw him in the city and on the mountains of the moon --
His cross was rather bloody --
He could hardly roll His stone.
Oh Jesus save me!

"Slipstream"

Well the lush separation unfolds you --
and the products of wealth
push you along on the bow wave
of the spiritless undying selves.
And you press on God's waiter your last dime --
as he hands you the bill.
And you spin in the slipstream --
timeless -- unreasoning --
paddle right out of the mess.

"Locomotive Breath"

In the shuffling madness
Of the locomotive breath,
Runs the all-time loser,
Headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping --
Steam breaking on his brow --
Old Charlie stole the handle and
The train won't stop going --
No way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off
At the stations -- one by one.
His woman and his best friend --
In bed and having fun.
He's crawling down the corridor
On his hands and knees --
Old Charlie stole the handle and
The train won't stop going --
No way to slow down.
He hears the silence howling --
Catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner
Has got him by the balls.
He picks up Gideon's Bible --
Open at page one --
God stole the handle and
The train won't stop going --
No way to slow down.

"Wind-Up"

When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

"Lick Your Fingers Clean"

I'll see you at the weighing in when your life's sum-total's made.
And you set your wealth in godly deeds against the sins you've laid.
So place your final burden on your hard-pressed next of kin:
Send the chamber pot back down the line to be filled up again.
Take your mind off your election and try to get it straight.
And don't pretend perfection: you'll be crucified too late.
And he'll say you really should make the deal as he offers round the hat.
Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean, I thank you all for that.
And as you join the good ship earth and you mingle with the dust
be sure to leave your underpants with someone you can trust.
And the hard-headed social worker who bathes his hands in blood
will welcome you with arms held high and cover you with mud.
And he'll say you really should make the deal as he offers round the hat.
Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean, well. I'll thank you all for that.

"Song For Jeffrey"

Gonna lose my way tomorrow,
gonna give away my car.
I'd take you along with me,
but you would not go so far.
Don't see what I do not want to see,
you don't hear what I don't say.
Won't be what I don't want to be,
I continue in my way.

Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin' to,

I don't want to.

Everyday I see the mornin' come on in the same old way.
I tell myself tomorrow brings me things I would not dream today.

"Love Story"

Going back in the morning time
to see if my love has changed her mind, yeah.
I know what I will find
that she is wasting time,
she could be picking roses.

Going back in the morning time
to see if my love has seen the light, yeah.
Oh, I told her last night
she should improve her sight,

she could be painting the roof.

Going back in the morning time
to see if my love has come around, yeah.
She offered me no sound,
her head is in the ground,
She could be calling for winter.