mother? mother? mother? chorus: she's the anti-mother, mother is that you? she's the anti-mother, mother, mother is that you? it's myra hindley on the cover your very own sweet anti-mother there she is, on the pages of the star ain't that just the place you wish you were? let her rot in hell, is what you said let her rot, let her starve, you'd see her dead let her out but don't forget to tell you where she is the chance to screw her is a chance you wouldn't miss let her suffer, give her pain is the verdict you gave you just can't wait to piss on her grave you pretend that you're horrified make out that you care but really you wish that you had been there you say you can't bear the thought of what she did but you'd do it to her, you'd see her dead tell me, what is the difference between her and you you say that you would kill her well, what else would you do? don't you see that the violence has no end? isn't limited by rules? don't you see as angels preaching you're nothing but the fools fools step in where angels fear to tread you see, to kill others is the ethic of the dead chorus the single mug shot from the past ensures your fantasy can last and last it gives you the chance to air your hate because she got there first, you were too late hindley's crime was to do what others think took her anger and her prejudice and pushed it to the brink then you goodly christian people, with your sickly mask of love would tear that woman limb from limb, you'd never get enough so you keep the story alive, so you can make yourselves believe that you are so much better than her but you aren't, that's your guilt laying there. chorus