Celibate Good Times
The preacher said it’s hot as hell. Got the devil on his window sill, going down. His t-shirt read “the boys won’t tell” but if you want to watch there’s a tape he’ll sell, going round. So pray it’s him, not me. There are saints that should be hung. Forget the cross whorship the gun. Bang bang. I hope your hell is hot enough. Forget the cross whorship the gun. You’re at the gates and almost home. Bang bang. I hope your hell is hot enough. The preacher said i’m gonna fail with three days left til he posts bail, going down. So grab your shit no time to pack. At the end, no coming back to this town. You can see through lies. He’s scared for his life. When will he know.