Like the last of the Mohicans Acted like the bloody pagans So let the bells ring Rejoice and sing
Jim Jones, where did you come from? Jim Jones, was it for fun? Jim Jones, is that your name? Jim Jones, a style of death
These sects are promised lands Are you ready to all meet gods? Martyrs, killers, holding hands Do not fight the odds The dying angel said: “Drink up!” “Be merry and be dead!”
Jim Jones, where did you come from? Jim Jones, was it for fun? Jim Jones, is that your name? Jim Jones, you died for fame
Murder! Murder! Murder! The zero hero
Walk on them like insects Gamble with death for a joke Mercenaries, disciples With bibles and rifles In the temple of people Doomsday book of evil No poster hanging high
I die, you die, don’t ask why I die, you die, don’t ask why I die, you die, don’t ask why I die, you die, don’t ask why
And I do, but I don’t ask why And I do, but I don’t ask why And I do, but I don’t ask why And I do, but I don’t ask why