Текст Bo Burnham – Rant

I went to a Catholic school for four years, and I also owned a Garage Band
Uh, for 20 minutes, and this is the product of that. Hit it

All the seats at the Sunday masses
Filled with the mass’s massive asses

(Uh, He—ju—the Bible’s sorta like
It’s like, typos… didn’t…)

In the back, I sit and I nod to the beats that are bumpin’ from my iPod
My god, they’re starting to pray
And over the music I can hear them say
«dear god, dear lord, dear vague muscular man with a beard or a sword
Dear good all-seeing being, my way or the highway Yahweh
The blue-balled anti-masturbator, the great, all-loving faggot hater
I’d like to thank your holy might for making me both rich and white
And though this is your day of rest, I come to you with one request

Debra Messing’s fingers in a holy place, «Hail Mary full of grace.»

Obama, could you pass some hope to the pope
I know a couple dude’s who wanna elope
See the church said, «nope» so the bros can’t cope
(The bros can grope but the bros can’t cope)
They’ve been in love, they’ve been addicted
Who said they shouldn’t? Benedict did
Cause in the holy land of the lord he’s the holy landlord and dicks are evicted
Cause you can be a benedict if you’ve been a dick under Benedict but
You can’t have benedicts because there’s only one pope with only one dick
What? Yeah, a dick on a pope is
Just like a soap on a rope cause it’s
Pointless, unless in prison, throw up your bibles, Christ has risen
Hallelujah, now it’s raining men
Because the gender ratio is 1 to 10
Winos at the Eucharist station, trans-gendered-substantiation
Jesus wasn’t the messiah, get back I’m a heretic and I’m on fire
It was Oedipus, those holy nights
The holy motherfucking Christ
I’m a blasphemer post-Katrina cruising the marina. On a crusade to cruise aids
And blast FEMA
You’re too late, we’re fucked we don’t need ya

Amen
In the name of the father, son and holy ghost
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Turn up your nose, strike that pose
Hey, Macarena!