Secret Xtians

I’m going to hide from the rain, I am tired of running
Round while these nuns eat my grain
Ransacking, wolf-packing rats in a cult of fame, so lame
Secret Christians are all the same, don’t be grumpy and cold
If you want to I can burn up a hole in this coal
Don’t be surprised if it warms up right when we die tonight
Secret Xtians are not too bright
Na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na