Hey Judas

How bad it must have been for Judas
Strapped down into a bed
Or locked up in a padded cell
His brains like ball bearings

How bad it must have been for Judas
Bristling with syringes
Prodded by angels in white coats
Charged with treason by heaven

All you good inmates beware
Of the thirty pieces of silver
That are piled up by the ashtray
That run away like spiders

Say to him no, I have my own troubles
Say no, leave me out of this squabble
The devil is on your shoulder
Hey Judas

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