[Verse 1] He put his name on Bibles, sixty dollars, good as gold Sunday morning, fingers moving, called the holy man cold White smoke barely lifted when he sharpened up his pen Ash falls quiet in the aisle — and he's typing "amen" [Chorus] The dope versus the pope One of them sells the rope The other walks the prison halls And hands them back their hope The dope versus the pope God was in the room One man counts his golden bricks The other tends the tomb [Verse 2] Posted just past Sunday noon — crown of thorns behind his head He dressed up like a doctor — says he heals the nearly dead Two thousand years of feeding poor, choosing what is right One phone, one thumb, one Sunday — measured out to fight [Chorus] [Outro] The dope versus the pope The cross or the crown One man bleeds for what he holds One lets the whole thing drown [End]
