Andy Lazris
Professional Song Reviews:
The Songs are "part of a greater collection of songs that have been smartly interwoven into the overarching narrative of the upcoming book by author Andy Lazris titled: "The Great Stupidity", a black comedy based around the events of the black plague and its subsequent effects on a small village in France. An interesting and inspired analogy of the recent events that have swept the world, Andy draws some fascinating and deeply thought-provoking similarities that require the listener to not only listen but think, and any song that can accomplish such a feat is certainly doing something right." -Andre Avenessian, Composer
Lyrics
Countdown, the Mortality’s coming
Countdown, we got to keep it away
Countdown, we’re killing our sinners
Following science and scripture as we bow and we pray
It’s true, we can’t be too careful
Blocking bad air is the way we’ll survive.
We know, that waving our hands fast
And building up walls will keep us alive.
Because the Great Mortality,
Is coming after me,
It swoops from the south, flies from the east, and sails across the sea.
If God’s the guy who sent it here, then I’m sure He’ll make it very clear
That the pure and pious just like we, we’ll survive without a plea .
Oh, the Great Mortality
It’s a lesson in morality,
For guys like, us, who never fuss, there’s a certain guarantee.
We do stuff like this and that
Follow science, God, and all that crap,
Then God will squawk, “Hey, you guys rock,”
And we’ll live through out eternity.
All we got to do, is act the right way
Do what we are told, don’t ever stray
It’s not that fun, but for God’s one son
We got to work hard night and day.
Let’s go, build all the walls up
Right now, put the sinners to the sword
Doing shit, to push the bad air out
Working together in the name of the Lord.
Black death, you’ll keep your distance.
You know we’re stronger than you.
We got a lot of advantage
Because we got the people who know what to do.
When the Great Mortality
Swoops down, we will not flee.
It’ll pass us by, as long as we try, and leave us safe and free.
Because we follow what they say, and know there ain’t no other way.
Why would God hurt those who service him?
The ones who bow and pray?
All we got to do, is do what they say
Don’t ask no questions, never stray.
We do the work, they use their heads
If we follow their rules, we don’t be dead.
All the peasants doing the hard work
As the master ties up his shoes
The Priest is slaughtering sinners
And our science crazed boy says what to do.
It’s our one job, keeping the air out.
We don’t care if we wither away
We just want to stop it from coming,
Make sure that the manor and the lord are ok.
Because, the Great Mortality,
Ain’t faced a group like we,
We’ll kick it the nuts, punch it in the face,
And throw it to the sea.
We are the best France can display
And when it passes us by, we’ll get to say,
Screw the rest, we are the best
The Mortality will go away.
Oh, the Great Mortality,
Will leave us without travesty.
As the others die, and we survive,
Our Lord will reap the biggest prize.
Sure the peasants may not win, but that is not a sin
Because in heaven God’ll come and say,
You guys, hell, you did ok.
Build up the walls, knock it the balls.
We got this guys!
Let’s get our prize!
The Great Mortality!
Why us, why us?
Why not the other guy, he didn’t even try?
Why us, why us, why not them?
We did it all, we waved our hands real fast and built a six-foot wall?
Yet they lived as we swam in Phlegm.
You’d think that He’d punish the sinners!
You’d think He’d have left us alone.
The ones who comply should be winners.
Not left just to suffer and moan.
We stayed true to the gospel of heaven,
We had science as our loyal guide,
We killed all the sinners and prayed every day,
And as a reward we all simply died.
Why us, why us?
We should be spared this fate, there should be no debate.
Why us when we’re so damned pure?
The weak and bad, if they bite the dust I would not be sad
But it’s us who God should adore!
It’s true, we know
We didn’t finish it all, we had gaps in the wall,
But does that explain our bad fate?
The good should live, as the wicked fall, every one and all.
But we tried, so you should celebrate.
But a half of a job isn’t wholey
A half of wall doesn’t work at all.
To wave half of your hand won’t keep bad air away,
You can’t smile with just half a face.
A half of a nail won’t protect us.
God saw that and hit us with pain
We need to find Ambrose’s nail and get on the right path,
Because half of a house won’t stop rain.
Why us, why us?
Despite all our flaws, we followed all God’s laws.
Even half is better than nothing at all.
If we wave our hands, just like Frenchie says, we should not be dead
It’s us who should have won.
It’s time to start,
So we’re spared next time, He slays the other guys,
We must have done something real wrong.
We’ll shame and maim, all those who question him, rip them limb by limb
We’ll do what they say and comply.
Because half a dish faith isn’t wholey.
We have to do everything the priests and the scholars say
It doesn’t have to make sense, and we’ll spare no expense
Since half of a sun has no rays
If you plow half of a field, you’ll be hungry
If you drive half way home there’s no one to greet.
With half of a key you can’t open the door,
You can’t run with just half of your feet.
Why us, why us
Why not the other guy, now we’re gonnna try
We’ll get the other half done
We’ll find Ambrose’s nail, follow all their rules, do just what they say
Because half of life isn’t fun.
We’ll build the wall up six feet tall
We’ll find Ambrose’s nail and glue it back
We’ll wave our hands real fast and take no slack,
And for those who fight us, we’ll smote them all.
Because us, yes us
We gotta do it right, we can’t be too polite
Because half of a job isn’t wholey
We’ll slay those who fight, we’ll make the world right
Because us, yes it’s us.
It is us!
Heaven collapsing, how will we bear it?
Trapped in this castle, looking for comfort.
Just me and my twins, and the servants galore.
Will we survive what God has in store?
What can we do but look up to him.
Sit by the fires, just me and my twins.
So we submit, so we submit.
Comfy in here as the world turns to shit.
Clouds from the East,
As they swarm, we shake in fear,
We sit at our feast, his face is filled with cheer
He is my Pope, he watches over me.
I understand, only he can set us free
So I submit, to his will and holiness.
Sure he will stray, but he’ll also save the day.
So I submit
I submit. `
Though I tremble just a bit.
To him I submit,
I submit,
Cause he will never quit.
Such a great guy,
On him do we rely.
He hides safe and sound, gives indulgences all around
He sells them cheap, and he prays,
Before he runs away.
He’s that kind of guy, best on earth
He sprinkles the poor with mirth.
So we submit.
So we submit.
The kings must be wrong, when they say he’s a hypocrite
Such a great guy, right from birth
He’s God’s top man on earth.
To him we submit. To him we submit.
​
Look what he’s done, for the world he looks over.
Prayers for the poor, despite his hangover.
When the plague hits us hard, I look up to he,
He is my pope, my little Clemmy.
Such a good guy, when I see him I always cry,
His servants say he’s, as humble as a French fry.
Feasts every day, as he prays that no one dies.
Kings bow their heads, so do the dead,
For he’s the only one.
He is my Pope, he’s no dope.
That’s why he wants to run.
I will submit.
I will submit.
Safe and beloved, on his lap I doth sit.
Yes I submit, I submit
Because I have no choice.
Death all around, horrid sounds,
I seek comfort from his voice.
He saves the world.
Indulgences are his work.
His hair is curled,
Because he deserves that perk.
So I submit, to him I submit.
Safe in his castle
As the world outside is shit.
The sinful air is hitting us bad
Killing all the Christians, making people sad.
You can’t dodge the death by running away
And it don’t do you no good to beg and to pray.
They tell you that you have to wave your hands,
Give money to Priests and then make your amends,
But when you’re filled with sin, you better start stripping,
Cause the only way to stop it is a damned good whipping.
God gave us a chance at absolution,
To stop his Holy retribution,
When we whip ourselves, we get diminution,
Of the sinful air inside.
One night with Jesus I had a chat,
He said, you guys better start doing this and that.
I said, what you mean, what should we do?
And he say “Whip your bodies until you all turn blue.”
Turns out that we’re filled with sin,
And the only way to cleanse it is a good whipin’
When we whip real hard our air turns pure,
At least that is a start.
If we stick to the rules, the Mortality leaves us
Inside our body flows the clean air of Jesus
We can share it with folks, our air is like a cure
Unless we ever fart.
When we whip, whip, whip, and bleed all over.
We turn our inside weeds into gardens of clover,
But if we fart it out, then the who gig’s over,
And let’s not forget the horrid odor!
The Priests will tell you that you got to be praying
The Pope has forgiveness, but you got to be paying,
The doctors and scholars got long masks and flowers.
But if you want ask God, it’s who got the powers.
We got instructions directly from Jesus,
He told us that whippings are the best way to free us,
Do what we do and you’ll avoid the death bed,
Just don’t fart it out is what the Lord said.
God gave us a chance at absolution
And if we fart it out, it turns into pollution
But if we let it build up, it’s the one solution
And that, friends, is a fact.
We ain’t doctors and we ain’t priests
But we’re your only hope when our good air’s released.
It’s filled with goodness, so the bad is decreased,
So come enjoy our act.
There are rules to which we got to comply,
It’s not up to you to ask us why,
We do what we says and whip three times a day,
It’s the only way to push the black death away.
God said to whip and to never fart,
Avoid temptation and keep a pure heart,
Kill sinners and Jews, at least that’s a start,
But our air is the real cure.
Let’s face some facts, the Mortality’s bad,
When people die, it sure is sad
So stick with us and we’ll all be glad,
Cause our blood is so damned pure.
We are the Flagellants, come to our party
Where we whip ourselves silly and our air’s not farty.
Forget everything else, cause we’re the ones who’ll save you.
If we just don’t fart and let the good air out.
Yea, we promise not to fart, and let the good air out.
It was way back when, down in Bethlehem,
They had a choice to make, that was simple and so true.
But when God said, yo, check out my new son bro,
They turned their backs to God because, well, they’re Jews.
Because it’s the Jews who doth choose,
To be different than us, and that is their error.
So the Christians can’t lose
If they blame shit on the Jews!
For the last few hundred years,
When things went bad, we pointed our fingers.
So why not do it now?
Let’s blame this on the Jews!
With death all around and no explanation,
We found us a guy who spilled all the beans.
His name is Jacob, and he is a Rabbi,
A perfect scapegoat Jew!
We made the guy say, under threat of castration,
That the Jews hatched a plot and that it’s worldwide.
They have balls made of poison that they put in our wells.
That proves it’s from the Jews!
Because it’s the Jews who doth choose,
To wear hats on their heads that make them look different.
So it’s time we light the fuse.
And blame this on the Jews!
How dumb can we be?
Why go through the trouble of finding a culprit.
It’s worked for eternity.
To blame shit on the Jews.
A few years ago I got in big trouble.
When my wife found me drunk with a woman beside.
I told her I’m sorry, but it wasn’t my fault.
I blamed it on a Jew!
They got a book called the Talmud that we don’t understand,
So we make up shit and say that it’s evil.
That it’s a guide to kill Christians from way long ago.
So the black death’s from the Jews!
Because it’s the Jews who doth choose,
To eat funny foods and wear stars on their jackets.
And now we have proof
That they’re poisiong our wells.
What else could it be?
If we don’t have an answer, why not just blame them.
We’ve done it so long.
We can do it as we snooze.
The Pope wants to back off and leave them alone
But why should be do that after Jacob’s confession?
Them poisoning wells seems to make sense.
So let’s go get the Jews!
We can’t read their language, and they wear stupid clothes.
So it makes good sense that they’d want to kill us.
We’ll spread it around that they poisoned our wells.
And we’re drinking their plague-filled brew.
Yes it’s the Jews who doth choose,
To make it easy for us to make them the scapegoats,
Why not do it now,
And say the black death’s from the Jews!
You see, way back when, down in Bethlehem,
That had a choice to make that was simple and true,
But since they held on tight, to their old birth right.
That makes it ok to blame our woes on the Jews!
Yes, it was the Jews who doth choose,
To plot their revenge and poison our water,
And if the Christians need proof,
Well, we do this all the time.
We made up lots of tales,
Like they cook their matzoh with the blood of our children,
So why stop it now,
Let’s blame it on the Jews.
Yes we won’t have to think,
Or to find us a culprit to explain why we’re dying.
We’ll just say that our drink,
Was poisoned by the Jews
Hell, a plot so well made,
With confessions by Jacob and all of his minions,
Makes our guilt go away,
When we blame it on the Jews.
Let’s blame everything on the Jews!
It’s the Jews who we doth choose.
We got holy stuff to dip, halleluiah,
Take a little sip, what’s it to ya?
For a price we’ll mix it up,
So it cures the Mortality.
Dip, dip, dip halleluiah,
Fixes the bad air that’s within ya
We’re the kind of guys,
Who sell you piety!
Because we, have a nose hair yanked from Saint Sebastian,
And a rock on which the Lord himself tripped,
And when we dip them in our homemade drink,
Hell once you take a sip, your blood won’t ever stink.
We can, mix and match all of our holy relics,
And make a broth that cures your every ill.
Sure, you may be sick and health just ain’t your thing.
But once you drink our shit, your soul will start to sing.
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
All our stuff is certified by bishops
To go down smooth and not give you hiccups
And the best part of the deal that we make.
Is there’s a binding guarantee.
That if you die despite what we promise
Slurping soup with the glove of Thomas
Just come back to us,
And the next batch will be free.
Because we, bring out vats of our house-dipped holy relics,
And we sell them all to those who are in need.
We travel cross the world taking money from the poor,
And filling up their coffers with our lovely tasting cure.
Sure we, love our new rooms filled with fancy marble,
And enjoy the feasts our great success achieves.
But our one main hope from all the stuff we sell,
Is to use our blessed drinks, to end earth’s living hell.
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Hey, hey, hey,
Dip, dip, dip, halleluiah,
We whip up faith and give it right to you,
You can slurp it down or drink it slow,
Either one will set you free.
The more we mix the price goes higher
But drinks infused with a saintly friar,
That’s a major cost.
That we can’t give out for free.
Because we, have water dipped with Ambrose’s toenail,
And we throw in a petrified chunk of Saint Paul’s poop.
And for a few more bucks, we’ll dip Saint Peter’s duck,
You got to admit, that’s some really potent shit.
And we, give you fancy cups just cause we love you.
Because we’re saintly souls who don’t want to let you down,
And when you sip a brew, mixed with Saint Patrick’s Irish stew,
Hell, once you taste that stuff, you’ll want to leap in it and drown.
We hire, expert priests to assure our stuff’s authentic,
And we mix it right to cure the ail’s you got,
If the Mortality’s your fear, or you just want to hide your beer,
We’ll dip the right stuff in, and then we’ll tie the knot.
Oh, yea. Oh yea.
We’re the kind of guys,
Who should win God’s top prize!
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Dip, dip, dip, halleluiah,
Making you all cured’s what we’ll do ya,
Everything we do here
Gives us and God great glee.
Priests, docs and all they that promise
Can’t cure like the balls of Saint Thomas,
Sure our brew may be expensive
But you’ll survive the Mortality.
True, you may die of poverty,
But you got our guarantee.
Dip, dip, dip Halleluiah!
We are monks and nuns, under God’s bright sun,
Doing stuff we’re sure he’d abhor.
With death everywhere, it’s time not to care,
So we’re done with being a bore.
Yea, yea, yea
We followed the rules, did all that he said,
While his plague left everyone dead,
So now we are doing our thing, to hell with his shit,
Because faith don’t help you a bit.
Yea, it’s the great debauchery,
We dispense with all God’s piety,
With drink, dance, and obscenity,
You’d think God would be pissed.
Nuns ravage monks without penalty,
And we have feasts like none have ever seen,
Since the Romans walked our land,
So long ago.
Oh oh, so long ago
Hey hey.
Yea it’s the great debauchery,
Cause when he slaughters all humanity,
We might as well enjoy ourselves,
Cause being good don’t work.
While they die down there, with their pious souls,
We up here have different goals,
In the hay, we monks and nuns will role,
With our clothes all tossed away.
Cause why not, hey, hey,
If we’re gonna die,
we’ll do it our way,
Yet we live, oh, oh,
Ain’t nothing to forgive.
Hey hey.
Yea while they’re doing their shit,
And following rules,
We’re having some fun up here.
We’re enjoying the apple from which we’re deprived,
As we sing and dance and drink beer.
Yea, yea, yea.
It seems to me, that the Mortality,
Is hurting the ones who obey.
So if death is soon, we might as well get a room,
Because I guess God thinks it’s ok.
Oh, oh, oh
It’s time for us to be what we always wanted to be
Oh, oh, oh.
It’s time to shed the laws.
Hell we might even invite Santa Clause
To the, great debauchery
The best show the world has ever seen,
It’s time to face our mortality,
And live the life we deserve.
As we do our dirty deeds, we seem to stay alive,
And maybe in the end we’ll see that that is God’s surprise.
Cause we know that it will be,
Something cool.
Hey, hey,
Makes God drool,
Ho, ho.
In this world of insanity,
We have carved a slice of humanity,
Sure some would say it’s profanity,
But we just call it fun.
We grow our food and make our beds,
And assure that all are content and fed,
We paved a path against what they said,
But, hey, guess what, we ain’t dead.
So we play,
Hey, hey,
We don’t pray,
No, no.
Because we’re the monks and nuns, under God’s bright sun
Who are breaking all the rules.
But maybe in the end, when the reaper comes,
He’ll think our way is cool.
Yea, yea, yea
Who’s to know what is wrong or right, as we party through the night,
Hell, God, He may be dancing too.
And enjoy our pagan plight.
So pull up chair, and shed all your care,
And stop acting so damned blue!
Enjoy the great debauchery,
Shed all your made-up piety,
And be glad you got a chance to be,
As happy as a clam
So let’s dance,
Yea, yea,
And we’ll sing,
Ho, ho,
And we live a life that’s been denied to us,
For as long as we get to jam.
Hey, hey, So cool, Yo ho, Oh yea! Oh yea.
Let’s face, the facts,
We’re the guys in the know, as our long snouts should show.
We speak the one truth
We got the creds and the clout, from Orleans to Bordeaux.
We went, to school
Studied all of the humors, bad blood and the tumors
And there, we learned,
If you pay us a fee, we’ll end the damned Mortality.
Because we’re the doc, doc, doc, da Doctors,
We got a cure for you.
The smart and sexy flowered doctors,
How can you doubt what we do?
We look at your crap, sit on your lap, make your blood spill, fill you with pills
We’re the doc, doc, doc, doc da doctor
What do you think of that?
Hey, way back when there was a guy named Galen,
He won’t no doctor, but that’s ok.
He discovered stuff cause he was a Roman
And those guys were bad ass and knew how to play.
Well, he wrote a big book that we still rely on,
Bout humors and shit that flow in your veins.
And when they’re out of whack, He told us that,
You got to see a doc, doc, doc, doc, a doctor.
And make sure that you pay.
Cause we’re the doc, doc, doc, da doctors,
Only we know what to do.
We follow the rules scripted by Frenchie,
Hell, that guy’s one smart dude.
Rule number is to always pretend,
If we got no idea what an illness portends,
To make shit up, and fake like we know.
Cause otherwise you won’t give us no dough.
Hey, rule number two, and this one’s important,
Cause if we don’t adhere, your faith in us wanes
Is to give you a pill, no matter how stupid.
And tell you it’s good for your heart and your brain.
Unless that you think we got potions to fix you,
And that we’re smart as heck and have no doubt.
You won’t see the doc, doc, doc, da doctor
And ain’t that what it’s all about.
Oh, yea
Oh yea
Oh yea, yea, yea, yea
Let’s dance, this dance.
Wear the flower masks, with a poppy or daisy
If one don’t work,
Then hell we’ll put in two
It may make, no sense
But it looks damned wise and you think we’re caring
And to stay, real safe
When you’re sick we stay away from you.
Because we’re the doc, doc, doc, doc a doctors,
Only we know what to do.
We bleed out bad humors that are wrecking your body.
And make you take a crap or two.
We’ll feed you with pills, and give you a bill,
Study your shit, make you pee in a dish,
We’re the doc, doc, doc, doc, doc a doctor,
What do you think of that?
Hey we’re having fun, so please don’t run,
We take care of kings, and the Pope, and the nuns.
With death all around, and fear that abounds,
You got to admit that we’re A number one.
Come a bit closer, I’ll stab you with you with needles,
Two in the left leg, the right one gets one.
Cause I’m the doc, doc, doc, doc, doctor,
To you I’m real smart, but I’m just having fun.
Yea, I’m the doc, doc, doc, doc da doctor,
I got a cure for you.
I’ll bleed you out and stuff you with pills,
Cause this is what you pay me to do.
If you want to walk around, with your humors all screwed up.
Be my guest, but you’ll slam into bad luck.
Cause I’m the doc, doc, doc, doc, a doctor
And only I know what to do.
Yea, I’m the doc, doc, doc, doc, a doctor,
See me before you’re screwed.
Yea, see the doc, doc, doc, doc, a doctor,
Just pay up front and don’t be rude.
We’re the,
Soldiers of France,
And we fight to keep the world a rockin’,
Cause our song and our dance,
Is where we strut our stuff.
If you want to act tough,
And think that you know more than we do
We might have to get rough.
Cause our swords doth speak the truth.
You’ll see that…
We’re the warriors who fight with glee
For the highest damned authority,
The King and God would both agree,
That our word is the last.
It’s true that some folks may not see
How wise is our philosophy,
Oh sure. Say no more. Our swords ain’t easy to ignore.
Oh, oh, oh,
We’re the soldiers of our France, and
We fight for King and God.
Hey, hey, hey
And when we catch our prey.
We bark as one like dogs.
Woof, Woof, Woof,
The world’s full of insanity,
From plague and Brits and vanity,
And we’ll smote the fools who don’t agree,
So we can stop the death.
We kill the folks who seem to be,
A threat to all humanity,
And by doing so we’re saving them.
From a fate that’s worth than death.
It’s alright. Oh yea. Sit tight. Yes sir.
As we all save the world.
And complete our holy fight.
Yea, yea, yea
To save France from Mortality
We quarantine with lock and key
All the folks who cough or sneeze
Before they spread the damned disease.
We close their doors so they can’t flee,
And come back in two weeks or three,
Sure they may starve or be thirsty,
But we’re no welfare agency.
If they die, oh my. We won’t cry? You know why?
Cause by killing them by lock and key, they’ll never die of plague.
Oh, oh, oh
We’re the soldier of our France,
And we do work for the Lord.
Yea, yea, yea
Our morals can be found
On the tips of our sharp swords.
Ain’t no one tells us what to do,
‘Cept King and God and Captain Lou,
But this is what I’m telling you,
We got this figured out.
We’ll beat back all our enemies
By killing folks we’ll stop disease,
The logic of our path, you see,
Is science at its best.
It’s the truth. Hey, hey.
You can’t dispute,
Oh yea.
Because to say we’re wrong is dangerous stuff, and our swords will shut you up.
Oh, oh, oh
We smote the bastardly, and we won’t stop till we’re done.
Hey, hey, hey
Sometimes you must kill three, to save the life of one.
Woof, Woof, Woof,
We know that good folks will agree
That our war against this enemy
Is a smart slice of our piety,
That we mix with sinner’s blood.
Because
We’re the,
Soldiers of France,
And we fight to keep the world a rockin’,
Cause our song and our dance,
Is where we strut our stuff.
If you want to act tough,
And think that you know more than we do
We might have to get rough.
Cause our swords doth speak the truth.
Yea our swords doth speak the truth!
We are here at his house,
At the temple of salvation,
It’s the end of the road.
But the start of something grand.
When I see the great man,
And I share my tribulations.
He will cry, as will I, as will I.
He will look in my eyes,
And acknowledge I’m a hero.
All my trials, my long quest, will be worth that telling glance.
He’ll pat me on my head, and tell me in his accent.
That I saved, God’s earth, with the nail that’s in my hands.
As I walk up those steps, that lead to me to my future
I ponder what it means, when I finally save mankind.
I may revel in the moment, but moments are so fleeting
In the end, what does it mean, without them, without them?
At the doorstep, of my future,
Here I stand, though not alone.
Through adventures, and disasters,
We have made it almost home.
Will it be, all worth it,
As we climb those steps of fate?
Why does each step going up there,
Make me worry, fret and grieve?
(pause)
It’s time I shed my fears,
and accept what I’ve accomplished.
After so much blind deception,
I am climbing to the truth.
To the temple of all knowledge, where I’ll finally get redemption.
Me and him, and the nail, and my friends.
When he shows me how to fix it,
Then the world will sing my glory.
The Pope and Kings, will parade me all around.
Even Jesus might come down, to shake my hands and thank me.
You’re my guy, dad’s so proud, him and I.
Still I tremble, at our fate here,
And I wonder, what’s ahead.
Once we solve the world’s horror,
Will I lose them, lose my friends?
Will I be, left to dangle,
Have to go home on my own?
Will my joy, with my friends here,
From the winds of fate, all be blown.
As I walk up those steps, that lead to me to my future
I ponder what it means, when I finally save mankind.
I may revel in the moment, but moments are so fleeting
In the end, what does it mean, without them, without them?
All the people we met, some scoundrels and some friends
Will they care what we’ve done,
When the black death finally ends.
Somehow deep in my heart,
I would rather run away,
With my friends, somewhere far, far away.
I know what this means, what the sacrifice is for.
And yet in the end, I don’t want to shut the door.
Each step that I take, pulls me farther from my heart.
Turn around, says its beat, run away.
At the doorstep of my fate,
Toward a man who knows it all,
Am I climbing, toward my triumph?
Or on these steps, will I fall.
And tumble to a future,
of accolades and fame,
As I bask in my anguish,
alone in all but name.
As I walk up those steps, that lead to me to my future
I ponder what it means, when I finally save mankind.
I may revel in the moment, but moments are so fleeting
In the end, what does it mean, without them, without them?
Dear Lord, dear lord,
My smarts are your reward.
I am a man of science, and chairman of your board.
When I blab to your flock on earth,
And they listen to my words.
Then if by chance they lose their lives, it’s not my fault, it’s yours.
But if ever they defy me, or question what I say.
Then we’ll smile at their horrid fate
And watch the price they pay.
Because Lord I’m your servant,
And I hope you’re prepared
With a suite high in heaven,
That the saints and I share.
My brain’s big and sciency,
And packed up real tight.
So if folks are still dying
Hell, they ain’t must heard me right.
Because I am the Great Frenchie,
And from my breath does truth blow.
The world will all worship me.
Or they’ll die of your woe.
Because…
Science is what Frenchie says, don’t never think or question nothing.
Science is a lot like faith, except we throw in numbers.
Science is to make stuff up, and make it sound all smart and fancy,
Use big words and make you scared, and then you always listen.
I love science! It makes me sound so smart and sexy.
I hate defiance. Because you never better question what Frenchie say!
Hey!
Science is just like a rock, you don’t go asking where it come from.
All you do is pick it up, and use it like I tell you.
When I tell you what to do, you best just listen, not defy me,
Because you know my words are true, since I’m the one who say them.
I love science! It lets me be so rich and famous.
I want compliance. Since who the hell are you to question me?
Yea!
I’m the guy who knows it all, so don’t you dare do nothing different,
Go pray and drink your alcohol, just do everything I tell you.
​
Cause Lord, Dear Lord,
My science is your sword.
And since I’m so damned brilliant.
It’s no wonder I’m adored.
Science is a gospel, that’s followed just like faith
You ain’t never supposed to question it, or I’ll say you’re reprobate.
There’s a single truth to science, and it’s just what I decide.
So sit down, shut up and listen, cause you ain’t qualified.
To question the great Frenchie, and doubt the truth he spits,
Cause i’m the smart guy in the room, and you’re a piece of shit.
So we know that….
Science is what Frenchie says, wave your hands to push the air out.
If that don’t work it ain’t my fault, you must have done it wrong.
Science is a bit like myth, except we mix in facts and figures.
That’s how we can quickly diss, guys with other answers.
I love science. I am the only guy who speak its language.
I hate defiance. Because it ain’t nice to question what the Frenchie say!
Boo
Science is a list of rules, Follow them and ask no questions.
Guys like me are really cool, cause we make it so damned simple.
Sure there’s stuff I may not know, but that is something I won’t tell you.
Since I know your brain is slow, I won’t confuse you with the facts.
I love science. It’s made-up stuff that sounds so truthy.
I want compliance. Cause I’ll shame you bastards who don’t agree.
Yo!
When scholars start to look stuff up, or scrutinize my endless wisdom
I tell the world that they’re dumb dolts, whose ideas will surely kill you.
It’s best for only me to talk, more ideas are just confusing.
And where the hell will that leave me, if you think other folks are sciency.
Cause I am Frenchie, and my words are what the world calls science.
Don’t try to screw me, cause believe me when I say I’ll screw you way damned worse.
Ha!
Science is a single truth, to make you think I’m smart and helpful.
The fact is that there’s no dispute, since you know I am like God.
Yay to science, Yay to me.
Yay to Frenchie. Cause I’m just so damned sciency.
Science is what Frenchie say, don’t never think or question nothing.
Science is a lot like faith, and ain’t that what you want?
Ain’t that what you want? Hey!
It’s the great stupidity,
Part of god’s bizarre duality
There is heaven, where we want to be,
As He shits on us here on earth.
We try to be good and true
To follow what His book tells us to do
But in the end it seems we’re always screwed
That nothing ever works.
The Great Mortality,
It’s coming after me.
It swoops from the east and flies from the south, and sails across the sea.
We do what we’re told to do,
By our leaders so wise and men who are holy
We wave our hands to push the bad air away,
And burn the sinners and Jews.
It’s the great stupidity,
We build walls and we hide and yet everyone dies
We follow the script of the Great Frenchie
As the rich all hide away.
In the end it seems to me.
That we’re just getting dumber and sticking to dogma.
We follow their gospel and try to behave,
But we’re just digging a bunch more graves.
The Great Mortality
It’s coming after me
It kills all the poor once it gets in the door, while the scholars preach their creed.
They say that it’s all our fault
That it proves that we are sinful and lazy
They dip toenails in water, flowered masks on their face
And then tell us it’s all ok.
I think that’s enough for me,
I tried to listen and be good and compliant
I saw doctors, the Pope, and the great Frenchie,
And I realize they’re dumber than me.
It’s the great Stupidity
We turned our whole world into a cauldron of crazy
We whip ourselves and build six foot walls,
But people don’t matter at all.
The Great Mortality,
It’s coming after me.
It taught me a lesson, smart folks are just guessing, think they know what’s best for me.
They make a lot of shit up
To cover their asses and stay in power
They got theories and scripture and dogma and science,
But they’re as dumb as you and me.
It’s time to face some facts,
That the Lords and Prices and Popes and Scholars
Have brains that are slow and fat,
And they don’t give a crap about me.
They want their status preserved
So they seem all smart and giving and holy,
But God hit them with His turd
Because the Mortality is killing them too.
The Great Stupidity,
It’s coming after me
I’ve danced to their songs, fixed Ambrose’s nail, and traveled from sea to sea.
There is one thing I learned
The friends I met are the ones most holy
Sure they’re Jews and sinners who the Priest says to burn.
But they’re the only ones with a heart and a soul
The Great Stupidity,
The three of us learned that it’s not about magic.
Who knows how it will all turn out.
Be we got each other, and that’s what counts.
The Great Stupidity,
Let the world learn a lesson, we don’t have to be morons.
If we really cared about people and not just the pox,
We would turn our back on them all.
The Great Stupidity,
It’s time that we leave this shit world behind us,
We’re heading to find another reality,
And let the idiots enjoy what they got.
We got holy stuff to dip, halleluiah,
Take a little sip, what’s it to ya?
For a price we’ll mix it up,
So it cures the Mortality.
Dip, dip, dip halleluiah,
Fixes the bad air that’s within ya
We’re the kind of guys,
Who sell you piety!
Because we, have a nose hair yanked from Saint Sebastian,
And a rock on which the Lord himself tripped,
And when we dip them in our homemade drink,
Hell once you take a sip, your blood won’t ever stink.
We can, mix and match all of our holy relics,
And make a broth that cures your every ill.
Sure, you may be sick and health just ain’t your thing.
But once you drink our shit, your soul will start to sing.
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
All our stuff is certified by bishops
To go down smooth and not give you hiccups
And the best part of the deal that we make.
Is there’s a binding guarantee.
That if you die despite what we promise
Slurping soup with the glove of Thomas
Just come back to us,
And the next batch will be free.
Because we, bring out vats of our house-dipped holy relics,
And we sell them all to those who are in need.
We travel cross the world taking money from the poor,
And filling up their coffers with our lovely tasting cure.
Sure we, love our new rooms filled with fancy marble,
And enjoy the feasts our great success achieves.
But our one main hope from all the stuff we sell,
Is to use our blessed drinks, to end earth’s living hell.
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Hey, hey, hey,
Dip, dip, dip, halleluiah,
We whip up faith and give it right to you,
You can slurp it down or drink it slow,
Either one will set you free.
The more we mix the price goes higher
But drinks infused with a saintly friar,
That’s a major cost.
That we can’t give out for free.
Because we, have water dipped with Ambrose’s toenail,
And we throw in a petrified chunk of Saint Paul’s poop.
And for a few more bucks, we’ll dip Saint Peter’s duck,
You got to admit, that’s some really potent shit.
And we, give you fancy cups just cause we love you.
Because we’re saintly souls who don’t want to let you down,
And when you sip a brew, mixed with Saint Patrick’s Irish stew,
Hell, once you taste that stuff, you’ll want to leap in it and drown.
We hire, expert priests to assure our stuff’s authentic,
And we mix it right to cure the ail’s you got,
If the Mortality’s your fear, or you just want to hide your beer,
We’ll dip the right stuff in, and then we’ll tie the knot.
Oh, yea. Oh yea.
We’re the kind of guys,
Who should win God’s top prize!
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Dip, dip, dip, halleluiah,
Making you all cured’s what we’ll do ya,
Everything we do here
Gives us and God great glee.
Priests, docs and all they that promise
Can’t cure like the balls of Saint Thomas,
Sure our brew may be expensive
But you’ll survive the Mortality.
True, you may die of poverty,
But you got our guarantee.
Dip, dip, dip Halleluiah!