People, what have you done?
Locked him in his golden cage, golden cage,
Made him bend to your religion
Him 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 gently
And don't call on him to save you
From your social graces
And the sins you used to waive, 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, 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.