Suck my tongue, hurry my son,
The heaven will reward you.
It will be a membership to my tribe,
Your future will be stew.
Onstage tongue, behind dung,
Yes my asshole you naughty boy.
Your job to clean it after,
I play with my favorite toy.
For the uninformed this be known,
It's really the ass from which god is pulled out.
Traditionally gullible boys and women thus,
Divinely selected as fit scout.
You'll learn all kinds of monastic shit,
Things that'll make you like me.
Your holes will be mine and your will,
Now do you see?
Instead of milk you get very high holiness holy cum,
Very thick and creamy you'd love the taste.
In this famine of social motivations,
You brush with my holy shit paste.
I'll frequently finger you fondly,
But my men may be rough at times.
We just say peaceful confusing things,
To allay the fear of retributive crimes.
There's nothing supernatural,
It's always poles and holes.
Throw in power and mercenaries,
To heaven goes the shit-faced souls.
