Preacher on the box says heaven's a reward Fingers black from counting what the poor can't afford Blood on the altar wine turns to piss in the cup Kneel down swallow it the maggots fill you up Chop the hands off the clock You can't pray your way out of this Your god is a maggot's breakfast Your heaven's a hole in the ground Choke on your rosary and like it Worms don't kneel and they don't make a sound Saint with a scythe grin carved knife thin Tongue nailed to the steeple from the rotted hymn Holier eyes in a gutted shrivelled face Six days shovel dirt on the seventh erase Chop the hands off the clock You can't pray your way out of this Your god is a maggot's breakfast Your heaven's a hole in the ground Choke on your rosary and like it Worms don't kneel and they don't make a sound Flesh is just a rental Soul a second-hand lie Burn the book and taste the ash Nothing waits past the final sigh All of it rot all of it gone All of it nothing in the end Your god is a maggot's breakfast Your heaven's a hole in the ground Choke on your rosary and like it Worms don't kneel and they don't make a sound Worms don't kneel Worms don't kneel Your god is a maggot's breakfast Your heaven's a hole in the ground Choke on your rosary and like it Worms don't kneel and they don't make a sound Worms don't kneel
