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Lyrics:
When the credits finally Roll for this, the Worst story ever Told, don't bother
Sifting through the names For yours or anyone you know Unless they were by chance a shepherd king A virgin birth, a resurrection, a messianic prince or some such childish thing
You can storm the edit suite Or move to block its theatrical release But I think we can safely guarantee There will be no revisions to the script made on behalf of a supporting caste
Because history exalts only the pornography of force That of murderers and psychopaths The rest of us, of course, stricken from the narrative wholesale A backdrop to their tale
As we, the two bits Are ushered on and swiftly off the stage with Jawbones of asses No stirring curtain call for the masses
No floral bouquet No breaking of legs No recurring role No artistic control
And so in these days, in this terminal phase It's all left to chance A piece of advice, if you're cast on thin ice You may as well dance
Do what you feel you must But as for me, I was not Put upon this earth To subjugate or serve
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