| Lyrics: | Then I saw his face and I was a believer
It was the automatic rifles
The Nintendos and
Segas
And the half a dozen dead disciples
And like many a fruitcake before him
He
claimed to be the son of God
But like many a fruitcake before him
Maybe he really
was
CHORUS
Hot dogs!
Toss!
Mid day crisis!
And meanwhile a
black Maria
Leaves the hallowed halls of justice
Under a hall of phlegm and
fire
>From the assembled vigilantes and uncles
CHORUS
Ippa dippa dation
no operation
Too many people at the station
Get in line behind the nation
The rest of
life's fall-out patients
Who wake up every morning smiling
Stretching, yawning,
breakfast-timing
Out in alices, toasted brown
Then the mid day crisis comes
around
And no, I'm not a believer
ANd no, I don't want to see your leaflets
I
lsot my faith with my taste for sausages and hats
And no you can't come in for tea and
biscuits
CHORUS
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