California/Fetid Adder's Tongue

Wake in the morning, the hold of the anchor
The walk of the cunning, the hole in the ship
It's easy to be firemen in a house made of brick
Spit the puss from your mouth, you bastard
You ruin my dress when you talk
Given a sentence, laid on a plate
Shake hands and eat the shit
The acquitted were hard rung through a dripping cloth
Laugh like an empty can with a string
Seven times you wrap your craven tongue around a torch
Swine they wallow, they scuttle there a paradise of muck
Hens they cackle, they love to talk they love their suffering