When the credits finally roll For this, the worst story ever told Don't bother sifting through the names For yours or anyone you know Unless they were by chance a shepherd king A virgin birth, a resurrection, a messianic prince Or some such childish thing You can storm the edit suite Or move to block its theatrical release But I think we can safely guarantee That there will be no revisions to the script Made on behalf of a supporting cast(e) Cause history exalts Only the pornography of force That of murderers and psychopaths (The rest of us, of course Stricken from the narrative wholesale A back drop to the tale) As we, the two-bits Are ushered on and swiftly off this stage With the jawbones of asses No stirring curtain call for the masses No floral bouquet, no breaking of legs No recurring role, no artistic control And so in these days In this terminal phase It's all left to chance A piece of advice If you're cast on thin ice You may as well dance Do what you feel you must But as for me I was not Put upon this earth To subjugate or serve