Such a sensitive opinion in one so young Would you like to know about everything that we've done You believe what you read in the printed lies But you won't believe the evidence of your own eyes And yes I've done a lot of things that you'd probably call a crime But I don't feel guilty for anything
All the tongues waggle but we just smile That'll keep the little buggers going for a while I live within natural justice, I understand nature's law But as for your Christian morals . . .
Oh, how you love this, how you love it You go out and you find it How you love it, how you love it
Such horror, oh such a farce, a little bit of broken glass You should think yourself lucky that this was done You'll have something you can whine about for years to come