High heeled boys dancin in the noise, bright lights blind
it is play time. Silver screen smut in the tomb of Mr. Tut
Standing tall overhead, these are the living dead. Stir the
persian smack, see young faces crack, sold their souls for
sex and greed in the bathroom in the back. You never know
what you might see, up in the apple tree, your time is short
how disappointed God must be. (solo over this pattern
a few times.)
verse
chorus