Big Jesus Trash Can

Right

Big Jesus, soul mates, trash can

Well, it's a fucking rotten business this

Both feet in the bad-boot

Lie stiff in the crypt, baby, like a rock

In a rock, in a rock, in a rock

Big Jesus, soul mates, trash can

And he pumped me fulla trash

At least it smells like trash

And he's got greasy hair

Wears a suit of gold

But God gave me sex appeal

Right, right, right, right

Well well well rock

Well well well rock

Well well well rock

Well well well rock

He drives a trash-can

He drives a trash-can

He drives a trash-can

He drives a trash-can

And he's comin' to my town

He's comin' to my town

He's comin' to my town

He's comin' to my town

Rock, rock, rock, rock, right

Big Jesus, oil king down in Texas

Drives great holy tanks of gold

Screams from Heaven's graveyard

American heads will roll in Texas

Roll like daddy's meat

Roll under those singing stars of Texas

Roll under those glorious singing stars of Texas

Well well well rock

Well well well rock

Well well well rock

Well well well rock

He drives a trash-can

He drives a trash-can

He drives a trash-can

And he's comin' to my town

He drives a trash-can

And he's comin' to my town

He drives a trash-can

And he's comin' to my town

He drives a trash-can

And he's comin' to my town

And he drives a trash-can

And he's comin' to my town

He drives a trash-can