Well all the women are television
With harlots in their eyes
They speak the tongue of Peter's son
And cover themselves with flies
Yeah they dream of an Axis
On which to spill their blood
But Muhammad the Prophet offers his sorrows
To God in whom he loves
A Holy Rider drifts the chasms
To stars of bitter seas
He friends the merchant running the guns
For a tired King of Thebes
Yeah, it's nothing to him
To him it's a way to eat
A ramblin' poet he once was
But now he barely reads
Madonna returned to seek her fortune
But was told her time had passed
A princess or two had taken her place
And believe they'll always last
While their pimps drink to excess
And profess there's no one else
That they could love as much as them
As long as they can sell
The Law still holds its dispositions
We thought they'd moved on
They'll stop and ask those dressed in black
"Cause we know they're doing wrong"
And the bodies are just numbers
And the numbers are swept away
A church in the East was blown to Heaven
The public feigns to pray
He works the mines of upper classes
Guided by buzzing lights
He sees the faces of all the dregs
All hallowed by wasted time
Was it Jesus, was it Lenin
Whose words were turned around?
Oh all the millions swept afoot
By a fatal, drying pen
If rapture comes, then let it come
While the wives are making tea
Let's scorch the earth and eat the flowers
Pick the petals from our teeth
I am not just a person
I believe I'm something else
But fate will tell me if I'm wrong
And like Faust I'm sent to Hell