On Mondays murder children, little girls and boys    I put my hands around their throats till they don't make a noise    Tuesdays torture animals, pluck off small birds wings    Watch them as they bleed to death, then they don't sing    Wednesdays I defecate on the priest's front door    If the priest he does complain, I just do it some more    Thursdays I Molatov the local orphans home    Love those little orphans, charred down to the bone       I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed    To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd       On Fridays sodomize tender virgin nuns    Tie them up, lear at them, and then I have my fun    Saturdays I stand and sing my sad, sad, sick, sick songs    To anyone who listen, who in the head is wrong    Sundays, Sundays, the day I love the best    Rape, murder, pillage while other people rest       I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed    To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd    I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed    But when I do offend someone it makes me feel so proud