Kunci: G major•
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Asus4
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New Christ Cardiac Hero(Janis Ian)Yesterday's preacher,
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today's bikini beacher, They've stolen your clerical robes and your Bible's been thrown.
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Your vir gin red crown of thorns
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has turned to ivory horns
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And your corner thrown,
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it has become a coroner's stone.
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The crucifix you prayed on turned to jail- house bars; It's
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silver chain you left out in the rain to glow with dust
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And turned to sea weed
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tangled in your heart.
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Now how does it feel to pull out the nails and find you still can walk? Oh,
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you can't feel it all from your self imposed rack on the wall.
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The tighter you drive the nails,
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oh, the harder you'll fall.
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So, come on down, come off it,
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sir, your gonna get hurt.
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The holy water you bathe in mingles with the sewer, All your disciples have reclaimed their rifles and taken the cure,
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Your lectures of ways are only today's pool room jokes
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Sprawled on the walls of tenement
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halls an dbathroom bowls.
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As jingle bells cry pay us well or you'll go to hell,
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Freedom's chains bind your pain and tie you well.
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But how could you know the gallows you hold weighs you down?
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Now isn't it boss you don't need a cross to get around.
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Oh, you can't feel it all from your self
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imposed rack on the wall.
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The tighter you drive the nails,
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oh, the harder you'll fall.
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So, come on down, come off it, sir,
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The eyes that cried for mankind's
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pride are covered with shades
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As the children of God trample
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unshod past your mindly grave.
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And new Christ hipster cardiac hero
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of 2000 years past your mind
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Spits at your feet crying, "We have no need of a god, each of us is his own."Yesterday's preacher,
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today's bikini beacher, They've stolen your clerical robes, your Bible's been thrown.
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You must have a cross but they've taken
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you, God and shot you filled with dead.
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So following new Christ pick
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up on a cycle in stead.
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Oh, you can't feel it all from your self
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imposed rack on the wall.
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The tighter you drive the nails,
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oh, the harder you'll fall.
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So, come on down, come off it, sir, your gonna get hurt.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - © Rude Girl Publishing,
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