Found myself religious conviction,

pure hypocrisy indiction.

Couldn't atone for all my sins,

til the Imam told me to begin with

one, two, three bows eastward,

then kill myself a priest or Rabi.

(Could I?)

CHORUS

oh, and I could taste the days,

when my sweet lover's gaze,

would look at me and say that she knew.

Somethin' good was bound to come,

from all this dreamin' that I do.

Found myself a billion dollars

to end all useless death and squalor.

Please this is apart from greed,

but a billion's not enough, I'll need,

one, two, three, for times that,

if I'm to grease the palm that feeds

those in need...