I don’t want the Spirit, i want the kick drum
I don’t want the Spirit, i want the kick drum
I know how it works, oh i’m not dumb
I don’t want the Spirit, i want the kick drum

Like sex without love
Like peace without the dove
Like a crime scene without the blood
I don’t want the Spirit, you know i want the kick drum

I don’t want the Son, i want a jury of peers
I don’t want the Son, i want a jury of peers
Mascara’s gonna run when you see my tears
I don’t want the Son, i want a jury of peers

Like lies without the truth
Like wine without the fruit
Like a skydive without the chute
I don’t want the Son, you know i want a jury of peers
I don’t want the Spirit, you know i want the kick drum

(Oh group with me baby)

I don’t want the Father, want a vending machine
I don’t want the Father, want a vending machine
I know what i want if you know what i mean
I don’t want the Father, want a vending machine
Like heaven without gates
Like hell without flames
Like life without pain
I don’t want the Father, you know i want a vending machine
I don’t want the Son, you know i want a jury of peers
I don’t want the Spirit, you know i want the kick drum