I'm having trouble expressing, can't you see
I wasn't born to do this easily
I wasn't born by a river
nor the sea
I wasn't born to be free
That wasn't (supposed to be) for me
Born into religion
Born into strife
That's, I'm told
Best kind of life
Born to do the job
Others should be jealous
They should therefore understand
When I'm overzealous
Don't like those pretty red prostitutes
But I'm a kind of presstitute
I'm born to preach, born to sell
Born to save you, from my Hell
I've got to say, I've had my fill
That life it's great
Comes with the wife
Play your cards right
& don't be jealous
& you might graduate
to a pack of four (or more, if you make it to heaven)
Heaven, there's no doubt
It truly exists (or existed)
That, I'll shout
A great palace of fun and games
Something like a funhouse
For those in the know
Don't be mad and don't be jealous
Or the Big Apple might hear us
He'd send his goons
They take no prisoners
Please don't ask
Bout the christian sisters
I've seen enough
I might (seem to) make light
But really, it's a fight
All the night and all the day
Will someone, (of you)
walk away?
