Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Whore Pope - Lyrics

Whore Pope


Yeah, he lives in the Vatican

Tries to do what he can


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He got ten hats and a sceptre, man

Tries to make things go to plan


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He travels the globe

People talk in his ear lobe


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He only seems so serene

Cause he don’t know what it mean


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He is Gods man main

On the elemental plain


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


When the cardinals figure who he will be

They send white smoke up the chimney


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He is the main man, the hot shot, bishop and king

People like to kneel down and kiss his ring


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He drinks wine and eats bread

Got a strange hat upon his head


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


He travels wide and far

In a glass car


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


I’m not saying that he’s a prostitute

On the contrary, he ain’t blowin’ no flute!


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


But he travels around, waving profound

He visits everywhere on the wide world round


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


I like him, what can I say?

I couldn’t do what he does every day


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


I couldn’t stomp around, waving like a goon

Neither could I live my life without poon


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


I wish I could spend a minute in his shoes

I’d step out onto the balcony and sing me some blues


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


Can you only imagine the public relations toll?

Of the Pope singin’ I Need A Little Sugar In My Bowl?


Whore Pope, Whore Pope


All the same I couldn’t do that to the church

Don’t want to leave any flock in the lurch


Whore Pope, Whore Pope

No dope, got scope

Don’t sit and mope

Just don’t care about the Pope


OK?

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