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Big Jesus Trash Can
The Birthday Party
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Right
Big Jesus, soul mates, trash can
Well, it's a fucking rotten business this
Both feet in the bad-boot
Lie stiff in the crypt, baby, like a rock
In a rock, in a rock, in a rock
Big Jesus, soul mates, trash can
And he pumped me fulla trash
At least it smells like trash
And he's got greasy hair
Wears a suit of gold
But God gave me sex appeal
Right, right, right, right
Well well well rock
Well well well rock
Well well well rock
Well well well rock
He drives a trash-can
He drives a trash-can
He drives a trash-can
He drives a trash-can
And he's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
Rock, rock, rock, rock, right
Big Jesus, oil king down in Texas
Drives great holy tanks of gold
Screams from Heaven's graveyard
American heads will roll in Texas
Roll like daddy's meat
Roll under those singing stars of Texas
Roll under those glorious singing stars of Texas
Well well well rock
Well well well rock
Well well well rock
Well well well rock
He drives a trash-can
He drives a trash-can
He drives a trash-can
And he's comin' to my town
He drives a trash-can
And he's comin' to my town
He drives a trash-can
And he's comin' to my town
He drives a trash-can
And he's comin' to my town
And he drives a trash-can
And he's comin' to my town
He drives a trash-can