My lover's got humour He's the giggle at a funeral Knows everybody's disapproval I should've worshipped him sooner If the heavens ever did speak He's the last true mouthpiece Every Sunday's getting more bleak A fresh poison each week 'We were born sick, ' you heard them say it My Church offers no absolutes He tells me, 'Worship in the bedroom.' The only heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you— I was born sick But I love it Command me to be well Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that d**hless d**h Good God, let me give you my life If I'm a pagan of the good times My lover's the sunlight To keep the Goddess on my side He demands a sacrifice Drain the whole sea Get something shiny Something meaty for the main course That's a fine looking high horse What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful That looks tasty That looks plenty This is hungry work Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife Offer me my d**hless d**h Good God, let me give you my life No Masters or Kings When the Ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene Only then I am Human Only then I am Clean Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that d**hless d**h Good God, let me give you my life