Julian Cope The Shipwreck Of St. Paul
The saddest place in the world for a heathen
Is this place, let's burn it down
Ooh, what a storm made a delivery - here's Saul the tax collector
Why didn't you all just let him drown?
This is the tale of St. Paul
And of how he was shipwrecked on those Maltese rocks far below
Hear my account of the unwritten Bugibba priesthood;
Who saved his life that millions might die when they let him go
And one dissenting priest says:
"And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name"
The tax collector was sailing to Rome
And in chains in the hold, as the empire's enemy
Oozing with hatred and purest contempt for the women's religions
And all of their mystery
And one dissenting priest says:
"And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name."
Then to the strangers of Ephesus, Saul took the message of Christ
But he made it all his own
Thereafter, he took the name of St. Paul
And the Nazarene's word was perverted from that day on
Changes were made, yes
But change is perfunctory unless those changes are acted upon
Huge was the debt the new patriarchal religions owned to the Tarsian turncoat
For he - not Jesus - was their true Son
"And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name
And in that heathen light
That's when I caught your name
And in that heathen light
I caught your name
I caught your name
I caught your name"