In the draft board here we sit
Covered o'er with Nixon's sh**
While our sweat is turning Agnew's filthy mill
And the people, as they pa**
They jam Melvin up our a**
Well I guess we've had our goddam f**ing fill
Fight, fight, fight for liberation
Break, break, break the social scheme
We will drag the ba*tards down
And we'll grind 'em in the ground
And replace them with a working cla** regime
Then we'll send a firing squad
After Cardinal Spellman's God
MacNamara will be the next in line
Then we'll pump some LSD
Into Jackie Kennedy
And we'll make her f** the workers overtime
Then we'll get a bloody rope
And we'll hang the f**in' pope
And we'll burn the Sistine Chapel to the ground
Then we'll turn our tommy-guns
On the screaming, ravished nuns
And the peoples' voice will be the only sound
So if you hate the Working Cla**
But you'd like to save your a**
Then you better give your money to the poor!
Or we'll sell your mother's twat
To a sailor on your yacht
And we'll turn your favorite daughter to a who*e!