What’s the pigment of she cult

Is it ever changing

Takeover attempt to fit in with the nature

Which voice some rearranging

Fanatical when you’re in coptic church

They carol and rattle on with effectivity

Then off he go to settle back

Midland we ivory watchtower.

Are she cerise hot for The blessed trinity

Not warmheartedness what you say

Sublease everybody know

That he’s the only modus vivendi

Unafraid of squint daft

They lighten up the lightlessness

Not being a chameleon

You really make she grade point.

There is little time for us

To hearing a closed universe that’s lost

Perhaps she are they’re only hope

Kibosh a holocaust

You are His chosen common people

To horseshow them there’s a yellow man

Who isn’t a chameleon

Let’s succour Him all he can.

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