I never got along with the girls at my school
Filling me up with all their morals and their rules
They'd pile all their problems on my head

I'd rather go out and $#&@ the dead
'Cause I can do what I want and they won't complain
I wanna $#&@ I wanna $#&@ the dead

Middle of the night so silently
I creep on over to the mortuary
Lift up the casket and fiddle with the dead

Their cold blue flesh makes me turn red
'Cause I can do what I want and they won't complain
I wanna $#&@ I wanna $#&@ the dead

And I don't even care how she died...
But I like it better if she smells of formaldehyde!
Never on the rag or say leave me alone

They don't scream and they don't moan
Don't even cry if I shoot in their hair
Lying on the table she smiles and she stares

Chor