You say your name is Paul
I think you think its Jesus
I kinda like that hat you wear for Sunday service, such a sense of style
But you cry like an angel Then you lie like the devil
I've got some wood outside it's just about your size

So set the metal to the hone
To pierce this skin and break the bone And bang the nails in Straight and true
And blame it all on God

I recognize your face
I think they call you Albert
You've got some truth to sell; you know I think I saw your wings
But you walk like a monkey 'Cause we're all just like monkeys
You've got the keys to the car

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