IN THE PIZZA PARLOUR

There is no God in this pizza parlour
   (he's dead, he's dead, he's dead)
children run between the tables
   playing with the garlic bread

and a tinny cheap jukebox
   plays gospel music
      Tuesday morning

There is no God in this pizza parlour
   (for sure, for sure, for sure)
the black man waiting on tables
   "What can I do for you, sir?"

I tell the waiter
   I want human flesh
      on my pizza

There is no God in this pizza parlour
   (In God We Trust, In God We Trust)
the cook sighs and scratches his armpits
   patrons scream "Fuck this crust"

the hours tick by
   I am feeling hungry
      I eat the napkin

There is no God in this pizza parlour
   (disgrace, disgrace, disgrace)
I finish my pizza silently
   the sauce runs down my face

they have poisoned my pizza
   so I leave
      I refuse to pay.



                                         (Mike O'Brien)