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The saddest place in the world for a heathen

Is this place, let’s burn it down

Ooh, what a storm made a delivery — here’s Saul the tax collector

Why didn’t you all just let him drown?

This is the tale of St. Paul

And of how he was shipwrecked on those Maltese rocks far below

Hear my account of the unwritten Bugibba priesthood;

Who saved his life that millions might die when they let him go

And one dissenting priest says:

«And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name»

The tax collector was sailing to Rome

And in chains in the hold, as the empire’s enemy

Oozing with hatred and purest contempt for the women’s religions

And all of their mystery

And one dissenting priest says:

«And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name.»

Then to the strangers of Ephesus, Saul took the message of Christ

But he made it all his own

Thereafter, he took the name of St. Paul

And the Nazarene’s word was perverted from that day on

Changes were made, yes

But change is perfunctory unless those changes are acted upon

Huge was the debt the new patriarchal religions owned to the Tarsian turncoat

For he — not Jesus — was their true Son

«And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name

And in that heathen light

That’s when I caught your name

And in that heathen light

I caught your name

I caught your name

I caught your name"

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