There's no one up there there never was   Only in vain is there a god   There's too much suffering for him to be   An almighty power a heavenly being      Chorus         My god, your god, who's god, there is no god      The fabric of prophet's ages old   Drones on and gathers mold   Gets a weekly airing from a fool on high   Who talks and talks till his throat's dry   A fund for a roof with a hole   It's the money they'll save not your soul   Persistant begging from men of the cloth   Refuse his offer and see his wrath      The weak ones kneel to him they prey   "Oh saviour come back someday"   Sinning whilst waiting for a sign   I deny him he's yours not mine