I'm going to hide from the rain, I am tired of running Round while these nuns eat my grain Ransacking, wolfpacking rats in a cult of fame, so lame Secret christians are all the same, don't be grumpy and cold If you want to I can burn up a hole in this coal Don't be surprised if it warms up right when we die tonight Secret xtians are not too bright Na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na