I'll see you at the weighing in,

When your life some total's made.

And you'll set your wealth in Godly deeds

Against the sins you've laid.



So you place your final burden

On your heart-rest next of kin,

Send the chamber pod back down the line

To be filled up again.



Take your mind off your election

And try to get it straight,

And don't pretend perfection;

You'll be cruising by too late.



And I say, "Really should make a deal,"

As he offers round the hat.

Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean.



And as you join the good ship Earth

And you mingle with the dust,

Be sure to leave your underpants

With someone you can trust.



And the hard-headed social worker,

Who bathes his hands in blood,

Will welcome you with [???] high

And cover you with mud.



And he'll say, "Really should make a deal,"

As he offers 'round the hat.

Well you better lick your fingers clean,

Well I'll thank you all for that.