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God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
(And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself)

 

Jung said it's all in the shadows,
That inside every dog is a cat.
Freud said my harmonica is really a penis,
But I think he ought to see a psychiatrist for thinking that.

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

The last time I went to confession,
The priest was nowhere to be seen.
I heard a voice behind the curtain saying, 'Talk after the beep . .'
Coming from an answering machine.

So maybe I'll Save a Whale,
Or maybe I'll Save a Tree,
Or maybe I'll save all the cards and letters
From the people that're trying to save me.

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

I went to visit the doctor,
Just to see where I was at.
He wrote himself out a twenty page prescription
Then dropped dead of a heart attack.

So I went to see my Naturopath,
Because I felt like something to eat.
He said, 'Say Ah . . ' and he placed on my tongue
A communion wafer made of whole-wheat.

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

I went to visit my bank manager,
To see about a loan, for my habit.
He asked for some collateral, I showed him my monkey.
And that son of a bitch tried to grab it.

So I grew me a long pigtail,
And I memorized the Little Red Book.
I went to two Communist rallies,
And now, well, I'm working as a Chinese cook.

The moral of this story,
An old stockman once wrote,
'You can lead a horse to water, you can't make it drink,
But you can put a lot of salt in its oats.'

God is Dead, Marx is Dead,
And I'm Not Feeling that Good Myself

 

 

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