- cifra
People, what have you done
Locked Him in His golden cage
Golden cage
Made Him bend to your religion
Him resurrected from the grave
From the grave
He is the God of nothing
If that's all that you can see
You are the God of everything
He's inside you and me
So lean upon Him gently
And don't call on Him to save you
From your social graces
And the sins you used waive
You used to waive
The bloody Church of England
In chains of history
Requests your earthly presence at
The vicarage for tea
And the graven image you know
With His plastic crucifix
He's got him fixed
Confuses me as to who and where and why
As to how he gets his kicks
He gets his kicks
Confessing to the endless sin
The endless whining sounds
You'll be praying 'til next Thursday to
All the Gods that you can count
