Early Sunday at dusk, the bell wakes us from the dream
She is calling to praise god, by feeding our biceps.
For breakfast it’s ham, a cask of butter cream for drinking.
Then we hike to the chapel and lift iron at the spot.
Only the one who lifts is liked by the lord, the bulging muscles he likes to see.
He wants us to praise him by tearing heavy iron.
So come my brother follow me,
Shape your neck like a bull.
Get your robe out of the closet, we pray at the weight bench. (church pew's literal tranlsation is church bench in German)
One for the father, one for the son.
Only the one who lifts will be blessed,
Mass is the reward.
It’s cold and dark in the confessional box, there is already waiting the iron priest.
Listens to your confession and shapes the upper arm along the way.
Then you must lift the weights, otherwise he won’t never forgive you.
Only the one who lifts is liked by the lord, the bulging muscles he likes to see.
So come my brother follow me,
Shape your neck like a bull.
Get your robe out of the closet,
We pray at the weight bench.
One for the father, one for the son.
Only the one who lifts will be blessed,
Mass is the reward.
We atone today for all the sins, by flaying our bodies.
We atone today for all the sins, by flaying our bodies.