Mid Day Crisis

When I saw his face and I was a believer It was the automatic rifles The Nintendo's and the Sega's And the half a dozen dead disciples He claimed to be the son of God But like many a fruitcake before him Maybe he really was And meanwhile a black Maria Leaves the hallowed halls of justice Under a hail of phlegm and fire From the assembled vigil-aunties and uncles Hot Dogs Ices Mid day crisis Ippa dippa dation no operation Too many people at the station Me rest of life's fall-out patients Who wake up every morning smiling Stretching, yawning, breakfast-timing Cut in slices, toasted brown When the mid day crisis comes around And no, I don't want to see your leaflets I lost my faith with my taste for sausages and Hot dogs Ices Mid day crisis