Standard (EADGBE)
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,
pull off small birds wings
Watch them as they bleed to death,
then they don't sing
Wednesdays I defecate
on a 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 unto the bone
I'm terrible, terrible,
shouldn't be allowed
To sing my songs of filth
to a decent crowd
On Fridays sodomise
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 listens,
who in the head is wrong
Sundays, Sundays,
the day I love the best
I rape, murder and 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