Musicians and Beer

God doesn't love you, God doesn't care

You lie on the slab with blood in your hair

And the voices of angels are flat and austere

Well that's what you get

If you don't book musicians and beer

You stand on the vanquished, your feet on their chests

Posing like starlets in bullet-proof vests

Your wife doesn't love you, she's sick of the fear

Sick of living without musicians and beer

So lock up your daughters, shit, you already did

At least muddy waters can't fuck with your kids

I'm an avid blasphemer with a passion for queer

'Cause I can't live without musicians and beer

My granddaddy's bible, so brooding and black

Lies like a tombstone on my own daddy's back

And we lowerеd him down without a tear

So he died likе a pauper without musicians and beer

So this is an order, get yourself some musicians and beer