Dm
On Mondays murder children, 
                 A
little girls and boys
A
I put my hands around their throats 
                       Dm
till they don't make a noise
Dm
Tuesdays torture animals, 
                     A
pull off small birds wings
A
Watch them as they bleed to death, 
                Dm
then they don't sing
Dm
Wednesdays I defecate 
                    A
on a priest's front door
A
If the priest he does complain, 
                  Dm
I just do it some more
Dm
Thursdays I Molatov 
                  A
the local orphans home
A
Love those little orphans, 
                 Dm
charred unto the bone

Dm
I'm terrible, terrible, 
             A
shouldn't be allowed
A
To sing my songs of filth 
            Dm
to a decent crowd

Dm
On Fridays sodomise 
              A
tender virgin nuns
A
Tie them up, lear at them , 
                   Dm
and then I have my fun
Dm
Saturdays I stand and sing my 
                     A 
sad, sad, sick, sick songs
A
To anyone who listens, 
                   Dm
who in the head is wrong
Dm
Sundays, Sundays, 
                   A
the day I love the best
A
I rape, murder and pillage 
                   Dm
while other people rest

Dm
I'm terrible, terrible, 
              A
shouldn't be allowed
A
To sing my songs of filth 
            Dm
to a decent crowd

Dm
I'm terrible, terrible, 
             A
shouldn't be allowed
A
But when I do offend someone 
                    Dm A Dm
it makes me feel so proud



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