Paroles de Lard Jesus

Lounging back in their golden chairs Plastic smiles surrounded by their plastic hair Tiny microphone in his swollen hand Screeching out their praises up to Bula Land He can't wait to die A crowd of zombies listen as they wail and cheer He's likely to expire in another year Rejoice hallelujah, I want to die I wanna see what happens in the blink of an eye Overweight southern drawl, dissonant voice Glazed over cloudy gaze lacks a choice Their eyes roll back as they raise their hands I think I see it coming, it's Bula Land!