Lyrics
When crowds swarm out doorways
And the streetlamps are lit
One of my disciples
Begins his wandering
In alleys and the main streets
He searches for men
The virile, pathetic, and lame
Leading them in to our establishment
He starts to cry every night
"Prostrate, supine"
"Well-groomed, divine"
"Whatever you like"
"Please, sir, tonight"
A brothel is a business no different than a bank
As safe and as formal and sanitary
My girls all destined for Hell
Or so says our priest
But find me a Christian who spends as much time on their knees
Closer to God, they honor his glory in the best way
Everyday
Without my aid, they'd be in chains
Or disemboweled in a backstreet lane
I'll stop selling when you stop buying
'Til the end of time you can hear the cry
"Prostrate, supine"
"Well-groomed, divine"
"Whatever you like"
"Please, sir, tonight"
"Follow me tonight"
