Lyrics A Strychnine Kiss - The Legendary Pink Dots

A Strychnine Kiss

Cut glass cathedrals slash holes in the air
So it always is raining when we kneel down in prayer
And Christ leans and laughs.
.. Christ!
He’s shaking his head
Cos the wine’s Portugese and the bread’s only bread.
.
No trance, no substance, no conscience for sure
As the Pope licks a jack- boot and lays down the law
And his flock form a cross--all fall down with disease
And the only survivors are him and his priests
In them thar seven hills there’s a big crock of gold
But it’s all stashed in sacks and belongs to a Pole
And name any language, he’s got something to sell
But if you add it up, it’s a ticket to hell