Offload Me, Lord
Lord, that day I came home
All I wanted was an ice cream and an iPhone
That’s all I wanted but you said no
You said you had to test me, so…
Lord, I ran to the car when it crashed
I saw the steel and how it was mashed
I called the cops, first thing in fact
Proper thing to do when someone’s head is cracked
But then I got bored and wasn’t sure what to do
So I took some pics with my Blackberry Blue
Yes, I felt a small twinge
But others were doing the same thing
When I put the shots out for bid
I made three hundred fifty quid
Lord, is your name really Jack?
Are you a fella that wears a hat?
I’ve heard that you live on Mars
And have a special hatred for cars
But why do you have to be so mean
As to stick a steering wheel through that woman’s spleen?
I touched her wrinkled cheek
As the fire began to creep
Along the metal and the leather
Of that tired old Ford Eddie Vedder
She was still alive
And asked me to give her five
But I missed and hit her in the head
And not long after, she was…
Are you an occidental Christian
Sent here on a proper godly mission?
Or are you a Muslim Mohammad hippie
That hates me because I’m trippy?
Maybe you’re a sandwich store Buddha
That gets off on mouldy gouda?
Or a slippery Guru Nanak naked in the shower
Pruning his hat-on penis tower?
Perhaps you are a ventriloquist volatile vegetarian
A sordid apathetic lobotomized agrarian?
Or are you honestly an alien spaceman being
That looks a bit like the fag I’m seeing?
Because if you are these things, I’m confused
I’m feeling a little lonely and abused
Because you didn’t have to kill that lady
The one that had a skull full of leaking gravy
And you didn’t have to make it such an easy job
For me to make money off a bloody bod
Lord, I found out later
That her name was Mabel
I met a boy and girl
Who said she lived in a monster world
I told them to go to bloody bed
Shooed them off with pictures of her mashed up head
But Lord, Ganesh and a Mormon priest
Are dating on the edge of a bird’s beak
While Saul of Tarsus and some Branch Davidian
Are smoking themselves into oblivion
And hey, those angels up on high
Well, they’re fucking in a pig sty
So Lord tell me, how do I get so sufficiently holy
That it’s fine to buy and screw a pony?
It’s not like I’m into sex with animals
Or that I’m tempted by the idea of cannibals
But if fair is foul and foul is fair
I’d rather hover through the dingiest air
Where guts are splayed over broken glass
And I get horny seeing a car seat poking through an old woman’s ass
Lord, my only Lord and my savior still
I want to thank you for a profitable kill
But I also have to remind you, it seems
That all I wanted
All I fucking wanted
Lord, I wanted only
A goddam ice cream.