Scod: They used dogs on me
They used blindfolds
They embarrassed me in the nude
They gave shocks to me with electrodes
They deprived me of my food
Scod: They paraded me round the prison
Chained up to other men
And with every task,
One question they asked
Over and over and over again, they said
Scod: Aren't you the suicide bomber
Who blew up the bus last year?
I say, No, they say, Yes,
I say, You're not thinking it through,
But they went off and thought up some new things to doooooo
So they soaked me with cold water
And they left me there overnight
They put outlandish costumes upon me
And took photographs of my plight
Scod: They accused me of brutal behaviour
Whilst they kicked me in the balls
And with every task,
One question they asked
Echoing off of the cold prison walls, they said
Scod: Aren't you the suicide bomber
Who blew up the bus last year?
I said, No, they punched me,
I said, Think logically,
And they said, You think logically!
And I said, What?
Tripod: (All whistle and then someone does something visual which the audience laughs at, if you know what please e-mail me)
Scod: Psychological torture
Has cleared things right up for me
There's one thing I know,
When they let me go,
I will be the man that they want me to be
Scod: Yes, I'll be the suicide bomber
I'll blow up a bus one day
And so will my son
Tripod: And his son after that
Scod: And then some poor new guy
Tripod: Will sit where I sat
And he will be forced to wear poo for a hat
Scod: And so on and so fucking forth,
Tripod: Amen