People -- what have you done --
locked Him in His golden cage
Made Him bend to your religion --
Him resurrected 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 gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive
The bloody Church of England --
in chains of history --
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea
And the graven image you-know-who --
with His plastic crucifix --
he's got him fixed --
confuses me as to who and where and why --
as to how he gets his kicks
Confessing to the endless sin --
the endless whining sounds
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count