| I’ll see you at the weighing in
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| When your life’s sum-total's made
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| And you set your wealth in godly deeds
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| Against the sins you’ve laid
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| So place your final burden
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| On your hard-pressed next of kin
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| Send the chamber pot back down the line
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| To be filled up again
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| Take your mind off your election
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| And try to get it straight
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| And don’t pretend perfection
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| You’ll be crucified too late
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| And he’ll say «you really should make the deal»
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| As he offers round the hat
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| Well, you’d better lick your fingers clean
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| I’ll thank you all for that
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| And as you join the good ship earth
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| And you mingle with the dust
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| Be sure to leave your underpants
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| With someone you can trust
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| And the hard-headed social worker
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| Who bathes his hands in blood
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| Will welcome you with arms held high
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| And cover you with mud
|
| And he’ll say «you really should make the deal»
|
| As he offers round the hat
|
| Well, you’d better lick your fingers clean
|
| Well, I’ll thank you all for that |