Play that you pray, In some artificial way, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. Bow your head, As the bogus words are said, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. Now everybody sing, About something that means nothing, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. Talk of love from above, Instead of what can be found all around, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. It's hard to imagine, All these graven images, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. Rational goes idle, Worshiping our idol, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. Let's get excited a bit, Over the staff hypocrite, Oh, well. Oh, well, It's the Sunday from hell. Oh, God! Please save us from ourselves, Oh, God! Please rescue us from our homebuilt hells!
More Selections From the Album
A Blunt Instrument