Walzing Will was soft and sweet
The way he walked was too effete
For psychiatrists to think was fittin'
So they said, "Hey son, we think we should
Sneak you a slug of raw manhood
And the State Hospital's just the place to get one"

Now they call him a queer sickie
They herd him to group therapy
They lock him up at night so he don't escape
And if they hear any Gay talk
A sizzle of electro-shock
Keeps his fantasies
In fascist shape
They call it mental hygiene
But I call it psychic rape!

And he won't get no restitution
Till we're dealing with the fact
That all the mental institutions
Are backed by a pack of straight white honky quacks
Are backed by a pack of straight white honky quacks!

Old Jim Jones and Tommy T
Were lovers to the nth degree
They had their thing together pretty good
But Tom was only seventeen
When his folks found out what has happening
Mamma cried and Pa demanded blood
The news began to fester
That Jim was a child molester
What jury's going to stand for that disease?
So they put him in the pen
They call him Faggy Jim
How ironic that his bust was sodomy
'Cause the prison guards use him to get
Their rocks off when they please!

Let's not depend on an election
To set him loose from that bum rap
With a good dose of insurrection
We could wipe that claptrap jailhouse off the map
We could wipe that claptrap jailhouse off the map!