My God
People, what have you done?Locked him in his golden cage, golden cage,Made him bend to your religionHim resurrected from the grave, 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 gentlyAnd don't call on him to save youFrom your social gracesAnd the sins you used to waive, you used to waive.
The bloody church of EnglandIn chains of historyRequests your earthly presenceAt the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you know whoWith his plastic crucifix, he's got him fixed,Confuses me as to who and where and why?As to how he gets his kicks, he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin,The endless whining sounds,You'll be praying till next ThursdayTo all the gods that you can count.