Musicians and Beer
God doesn’t love you,
God doesn’t care
You lie on the slab with
Blood in your hair.
And the voices of angels
Are flat and austere
Well, that’s what you get if you don’t book
Musicians and beer
You stand on the vanquished
Your feet on their chests
Posing like starlets
In bulletproof vests.
Your wife doesn’t love you,
She’s sick of the fear
Sick of living without
Musicians and beer
So lock up your daughters
Shit, you already did
At least Muddy Waters
Can’t fuck with your kids.
I’m an avid blasphemer
With a passion for queer
Cos I can’t live without
Musicians and beer
My granddaddy’s bible
So brooding and black
Lies like a tombstone
On my own daddy’s back.
And we lowered him down
Without a tear
So he died like a pauper
Without musicians and beer
So this is an order
Get yourself some
Musicians and beer