holy shamoly said the priest to the girl 
as he wrapped his arms around her 
and his guts became her world 
she said i can't take any more 
no i can't take any more 
and she could taste the christ 
breath the church 
smell the crucifixion 
of another fallen angel hooked up on false religion 
she's gotta hole for a soul 
she's gotta sad sad tale to tell 
she's gotta hole for a soul 
of being twisted in a living hell 

crikey moses he said with bottle in his hand 
fingers worn thin down to the bone 
from working on the promised land 
fingers worn thin tattered and torn from scratching 
all this blood and sand 
said i can't take any more 
no i can't take any more 
he had a loving wife 
doting child 
an englishman's castle for his home 
every mile stood this broken man 
and every two stood this broken man's dream 

he's gotta hole for a soul 
he's gotta sad sad tale to tell 
he's gotta hole for a soul 
of being twisted in a living hell