Then I saw his face and I was a believer

It was the automatic rifles

The Nintendos and Segas

And the half a dozen dead disciples

And like many a fruitcake before him

He claimed to be the son of God

But like many a fruitcake before him

Maybe he really was



CHORUS

Hot dogs!

Toss!

Mid day crisis!



And meanwhile a black Maria

Leaves the hallowed halls of justice

Under a hall of phlegm and fire

>From the assembled vigilantes and uncles



CHORUS



Ippa dippa dation no operation

Too many people at the station

Get in line behind the nation

The rest of life's fall-out patients

Who wake up every morning smiling

Stretching, yawning, breakfast-timing

Out in alices, toasted brown

Then the mid day crisis comes around



And no, I'm not a believer

ANd no, I don't want to see your leaflets

I lsot my faith with my taste for sausages and hats

And no you can't come in for tea and biscuits



CHORUS

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