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Oct, 2004

 Far Away in the City of Rome


A Song by Papal Bull (to a Poguish beat)
October, 2004




Far away in the City of Rome
Lives the Pope on his golden throne,
Making the rules that Catholics live by
And none of them ever asking why.

(Shading to sardonic)
Far away in the City of Rome
Eating with Bishops from plates of gold,
They call him His Holiness, blest of the blest,
And somehow no-one questions this.

Far away in the City of Rome
Under the shell of St. Peter's dome
Collecting the billions the faithful surrender,
Calling it offerings, legitimate plunder.

(Implicating and indicting)
Far away in the City of Rome,
Pervert priests find a new home,
And the Pope rewards Law, the repeat offender,
With a Vatican post, for being their defender.

He's never had sex in the normal way,
So how's he find the nerve to say,
Far away in his City of Rome,
How Catholics must act in their beds in their homes.

He's never borne a baby in his whole damn life,
Never even had a girlfriend or a wife;
But he still makes rules over women's wombs,
And enforces his edicts with the threat of doom.

He's never once drawn an American breath,
But he accepted the medal Bush pinned on his chest
"Defender of Freedom" -- If you believe that,
You'd prob'ly look good in a campaign hat.

He's never once voted in his whole damn life
Except in secret elections with the Italian guys,
So where's he get off with telling us how to vote?
He doesn't live here and his churches are broke.

They've laundered the money for pervert defense,
And circled the wagons just like Jesus said,
They turned the other cheek, oh surely they did,
In the sacristy, with some little kid.

So we should believe him,
That he knows what's best
For planet and people,
Oh give it a rest,
His whole damn religion's a downright shame
And at least with him,
We've got someone to blame.

So dare I say on Judgment Day
The Lord will not know him
And drive him away,
Far away on his Golden Throne;
He can rule in hell, a more fitting home.

So fuck the Pope, dare I say,
I don't speak Italian when I pray
Fuck the Pope in the ordinary way
And then we'll hear what he has to say!

Fuck the Pope, for a month and a day,
Post the clips on the Internet
Then see what he say --
'Bout what it's like to be fucked
in the plain old human way.

Far away in the City of Rome,
An old man lies wheezing in his Vatican home;
Soon he'll be dead, the Ring plucked from his finger,
The Cardinals' new man will be God's dead ringer,
And the lie will continue
In the minds of believers
Who receive only lies
From the lips of deceivers.

So Fuck the Pope and his whole fucking tribe
They're no more God's messengers
than Bonnie and Clyde;
They've nothing to tell us -- they're rotten inside
So Fuck the Pope, And Let's Go For a Ride.

Fuck the Pope
We're goin for a ride
Fuck the Pope
And his whole fucking tribe
Fuck the Pope
It pleases me to say
Fuck the Pope
For a month and a day!