Dressed to kill, and drinking all alone Waiting for some lizard to take you home Another wham-bam rendezvous The script is moldy but the lines are tried and true But there's no freedom No real freedom There is no freedom in sin Conscience screaming, but its Saturday night Dig deep for anything to make the wrong feel right Morning comes, your head is split in two I know your bleeding; I've crawled that same path too The swords are rattling, and the end is in sight Its now or never if you want to make things right The future's shaky, but the facts are quite clear The King is coming, and He's almost here