Lyrics:

(I gotta hammer and a drill,
Should I shine it on yourself?)

Barely any incumbent saints to think of
It’s almost like they’ve all gone and shrank up

It’s almost like they’ve all gone and shrank up

Doesn’t make you a judge,
That there stage doesn’t make you a judge
Don’t make you a judge
No, doesn’t make you a judge

I’m countin’ on the day that you’re goin’ down
I’m countin’ to the day that your goin’ down
I’m countin’ on the day, and you’re going down
I’m counting to the day that you’re goin’ down