Then I saw his face and I was a believer
It was the automatic rifles
The Nintendos and Segas
And the half a dozen dead disciples
And like many a fruitcake before him
He claimed to be the son of God
But like many a fruitcake before him
Maybe he really was


Hot dogs!
Toss!
Mid day crisis!

And meanwhile a black Maria
Leaves the hallowed halls of justice
Under a hall of phlegm and fire
From the assembled vigilantes and uncles

Hot dogs!
Toss!
Mid day crisis!
Ippa dippa dation no operation
Too many people at the station
Get in line behind the nation
The rest of life's fall-out patients
Who wake up every morning smiling
Stretching, yawning, breakfast-timing
Out in alices, toasted brown
Then the mid day crisis comes around

And no, I'm not a believer
ANd no, I don't want to see your leaflets
I lsot my faith with my taste for sausages and hats
And no you can't come in for tea and biscuits

Hot dogs!
Toss!
Mid day crisis!