Like a red state's Baptist fervour Like a small town's unsolved murder Some secrets are just best resting in the tombs of buried thought-slums As for Texas, doughnuts only, you cannot find bagels here And I'll reserve my highest Hosannas For the communion song that served with light beer And a chorus that inspires the score played in my myth-steeped years ♪ There's a hole you shan't fall into Sang the church choir's young male leads In our home team's jersey robes sewn by our sisters, moms and nieces This you gave us, although worthless, fed five decades' dormant hustle In result, his life was rubbish Celebrated? Yes, but rubbish