Lyrics=
The legs of a small child
They are lying in the street
It's a street she used to play on
where her parents used to watch
Her parents died before her
and all her friends as well
The ones who killed them all
Have a dinner date in Hell
And... if you want to leave
You have to ring a little bell
But there is no little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
The dogs are at the bodies
cause no one feeds the dogs
The wind is in the willows
Because no one feeds the frogs
No one has to feed the frogs
There's a bumper crop of flies
They move like shiny mirrors
over dead people's eyes
And... if you want to leave
You have to ring a little bell
But there is not little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
They pay you what you get
for the work you have to do
You can't buy a house
And you can't buy a car
But you're still pretty lucky
cause you work in a bar
You can sleep on the floor
and get some food in back
And... if you want to leave
you have to ring a little bell
But there is no little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
My father is an artist
He made a perfect world
He didn't make it evil
It just turned out that way
some people kill the children
some people kill their friends
some people kill their parents
And the killing never ends
And... if you want to leave
you have to ring a little bell
But there is no little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
You can tell from the buildings
What the builders had in mind
When God inspired them
All the buildings were refined
But then God walks away
I don't know where he goes
But the world will turn to shit
And you must hold your nose
And... if you want to leave
you have to ring a little bell
But there is no little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
I suppose God goes away
to see what we will do
I know he's watching closely
His eyes are on the few
who try to make a better world
When no one gives a damn
It doesn't take them very long
Wham Bam! and fuck you mam!
And... if you want to leave
you have to ring a little bell
But there is no little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
People better soon wake up
The dreaming hour's over
And if you don't wake up
You're gonna get plowed under
Maybe you hear the thunder
Before you're torn asunder
It will still be far too late
cause you need a little bell
In case you want to leave
But there is no little bell
And that's what makes it Hell
That's what makes it Hell
That's what makes it Hell
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