Big-Jesus-Trash-Can

Right Big Jesus, soul mates, trash can Well, it's a f**king 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 s*x 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