We are damned and we are dead
all god's children to be sent
to our perfect place in the sun

and in the dirt

There's a windshield in my heart

we are bugs so smeared and scarred
and could you stop the meat from thinking
before I swallow all of it,

could you please?

Put me in the motorcade

put me in the death parade
dress me up and take me
dress me up and make me

your dying god

angels with needles

poked through our eyes
let the ugly light
of the world in

we were no longer blind
we were no longer blind


Put me in the motorcade
put me in the death parade
dress me up and take me

dress me up and make me
your dying god


Now we hold the "ugly head"
the Mary-!@^% is at the bed
They've cast the shadow of our perfect death

in the sun and in the dirt.