Musicians and Beer

God doesn't love you, God doesn't care
You lie on the slab with blood in your hair
And the voices of angels are flat and austere
Well that's what you get
If you don't book musicians and beer

You stand on the vanquished, your feet on their chests
Posing like starlets in bullet-proof vests
Your wife doesn't love you, she's sick of the fear
Sick of living without musicians and beer

So lock up your daughters, shit, you already did
At least muddy waters can't fuck with your kids
I'm an effortless cleaner with a passion for queer
'Cause I can't live without musicians and beer

My granddaddy's bible, so brooding and black
Lies like a tombstone on my own daddy's back
And wе lowered him down without a tear
So hе died like a pauper without musicians and beer

So this is an order, get yourself some musicians and beer