Standard (EADGBE)

 On Mondays murder children,

 little girls and boys

I put my hands around their throats

 till they don't make a noise

Tuesdays torture animals,

 pull off small birds wings

Watch them as they bleed to death,

 then they don't sing

Wednesdays I defecate

 on a priest's front door

If the priest he does complain,

 I just do it some more

Thursdays I Molatov

 the local orphans home

Love those little orphans,

 charred unto the bone

I'm terrible, terrible,

 shouldn't be allowed

To sing my songs of filth

 to a decent crowd

On Fridays sodomise

 tender virgin nuns

Tie them up, lear at them,

 and then I have my fun

Saturdays I stand and sing my

 sad, sad, sick, sick songs

To anyone who listens,

 who in the head is wrong

Sundays, Sundays,

 the day I love the best

I rape, murder and pillage

 while other people rest

I'm terrible, terrible,

 shouldn't be allowed

To sing my songs of filth

 to a decent crowd

I'm terrible, terrible,

 shouldn't be allowed

But when I do offend someone

 it makes me feel so proud