My lover's got humour
She's the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody's disapproval
I should've worshipped her sooner
If the heavens ever did speak
She is the last true mouthpiece
Every sunday's getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week
"We were born sick"
You heard them say it
My church offers no absolutes
She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom"
The only heaven I'll be sent to
Is when I'm alone with you
I was born sick, but I love it
Command me to be well
Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins
So you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins
So you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
No masters or kings when the ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence
Than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am human, only then I am clean
Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins
So you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins
So you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life