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Oh the Muslims
Oh the Muslims
Don’t let them take your land
Of the devil worship they are learned
Oh the Muslims
Don’t leave your cattle untended
Not for human pleasure are they intended.
Thine holiest of Jews
Thine holiest of the lord’s sheep and lamb
In the ass I pillage thee
Thine ass of holiest loins and quiver I do
The thought of it snapping
And the rotten flesh spilling through
To my loins; oh joy of joys
Is it not a shame that no octopus
Has seen the tentacle porn
Oh the shame you useless and unworthy octopi
I taunt you with the tentacles
In the name of the beaver
The lover and receiver of Karl’s rod
Jealous is the rails evangelist
He thinks there is gold glittering
But finds only a placid dildo strap
In the hind quarters you are pillaged
In the hind quarters
The ownzone is your home
Stay there; do not roam
Is there a race?
Oh holy and secure lord.
Is thine the race of superiority?
Those that drink the golden syrup
Are fed by your greatness
Above and beyond the dome of royalty
I see a beggar; in rags he is clothed
His name is your mother or fatty
Whatever takes your fancy?
So be told now nooblets
It is heresy to be a slave to yourself
Let go of those earthly bonds
And turn to the art of slaughter
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