What do you want?
Standing in the dark, peering in.
What do you want?
And when confronted, nonchalant,
though pearls of sweat form on your skin,
and shameful conscience stirs within.
What do you want?
Where is your head?
Which one of these jokers took it?
Where is your head?
When you joined up your reason fled.
So now upon their pews you sit
a litany of rot you spit.
Where is your head?