There's a place in the back of the stallnWhere the plaster's so thin there's a crack in the wallnAnd if you bend to the groundnAnd squint really wellnThey say that you're bound to catch a glimpse into hellnnAs the smoke clears away for the viewnAll the people are waiting lined up in the pewnAnd the sermon beginsnAnd he's gritting his teethn'Cause the music's kicked in with a pulsating beatnnGood folks and sad blokesnSunday afternoonnHymn notes and cheap pokesnIn the back of the dark empty roomnnThere's a sickening smell to this roomnOf whiskey stained breath and the cheapest perfumenThere's a girl in her branAnd sex in your pantsnAnd she's sucking a straw as she begs you to dancennDowntown and down lownSunday afternoonnHighlights and high hopesnAn old rusty cross on the roofnnThey come to this place to abidenShuffling to each sidenThe better extremenA flash and the wink of an eyenA 'Hail Mary' and sighnAn angel's bad dreamnnThere's a place in the back of the stallnWhere the plaster's so thin there's a crack in the wallnAnd if you bend to the ground and squint really wellnThey say that you're bound to catch a glimpse into hell