Holy shamoly said the priest to the girl As he wrapped his arms around her And his guts became her world She said I can't take any more No I can't take any more And she could taste the christ Breath the church Smell the crucifixion Of another fallen angel hooked up on false religion She's gotta hole for a soul She's gotta sad sad tale to tell She's gotta hole for a soul Of being twisted in a living hell
Crikey moses he said with bottle in his hand Fingers worn thin down to the bone From working on the promised land Fingers worn thin tattered and torn from scratching All this blood and sand Said I can't take any more No I can't take any more He had a loving wife Doting child An englishman's castle for his home Every mile stood this broken man And every two stood this broken man's dream
He's gotta hole for a soul He's gotta sad sad tale to tell He's gotta hole for a soul Of being twisted in a living hell
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