aww, cantchya leave the thumpin to Thumper?

it isn’t the clothes they are wearin’
[believe me, I couldn’t be carin’]
it’s all that electioneerin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’!

to spout verses they always are willin’
such obsessions, to me are quite chillin’
– as if print words condoned interferrin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’

they think there’s a heaven they’re earnin’ –
if they catch me, I know I’m fer burnin’
or shot like a deer in a clearin’
my god, how I fear the god-fearin’

there really’s no way of explainin’
the hatred their god’s entertainin’ –
I’m certainly not volunteerin’
my god, howIi fear the god-fearin’

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