It is a singalong:

Every band has a man who was born to command
And demand the affection of the audience.
He's adored and revered and is head of the herd
Where you serve in supportive insignificance
It is part of the plan, like the lion and the lamb
Mother Nature celebrating her magnificence
He was born a giant
You were born a runt
Design divine as the good Lord wants
To be very very clear
I'll be very very blunt
God wants the pricks and the cunts up front

The cunts and pricks go right up front
In the spotlight of entitlement
Makes you feel like a stunted underpaid grunt
Which you are, as the good Lord wants...

You can cry in despair and declare 'unfair'
And demand reparations or democracy.
You may equalize with the aim to revise
The unsporting distribution of ability.
You may level the field but the playing will reveal
In spite of all your efforts to homogenize
He remains a giant.
You remain a runt.
Suck it up if success you want
It's bums to the rear to the rear, to be so blunt
For God wants the pricks and the cunts up front.

Its an unfair world and it ain't no fun
To the ones who kow tow subservient
But, our merciful Lord omnipotent,
Wants the pricks and cunts up front

Every rock star, movie star, president, pope or czar
In essence are pubescents shouting 'Grandpa- Look at me!'
And must be overcompensated for an ego once deflated
In a narcissistic injury 'tween ages one and three.
As they go grabbin' up the Grammy or the Emmy or the Obie
And go blabbing their baloney to a dazzled peasantry
Don't ya feel like a stunted underpaid grunt?
Which you are as the good lord wants
To be very very clear I'll be very very blunt
Towards your metaphysical befuddlement:
It's asses to the rear with the excrement.
God wants the pricks and the cunts up front
God, he wants the pricks and the cunts up front
God wants the pricks and the cunts up front