Elisha was a prophet
Didn't have no hair
Little kids poked fun
They got mauled by bears
And that's the way it goes when you're the holiest of holies
Everybody knows you need respect
And circumstances froze us into patterns of behavior
We aren't cognizant of danger
We're looking for a savior of our own

Elisha met a widow
The woman needed cash
Took a little oil and added to her stash
'Cause you're multiplying loaves when you're the holiest of holies
Normal mathematics doesn't fly
Subtraction and division start to get a little stealthy
And this widow's getting wealthy
While some leper's getting healthy

Poor Sal died near Elisha
Lowered to his grave
Touched Elisha's corpse, and his life was saved
'Cause things get pretty strange when you're the holiest of holies
You can still do miracles while dead
And if I ever found a body that was giving life new leases
I would go into the business
Of selling bits and pieces
Of his head

Elisha was a prophet
42, 42 children
42 children mauled by bears.