Send "A Strychnine Kiss" Ringtone to your Cell

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.

Send "A Strychnine Kiss" Ringtone to your Cell

Legendary Pink Dots lyrics