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We are damned, we are dead
All God's children to be sent
To a perfect place, in the sun
And in the dirt
There's a windshield in my heart
We are bugs so smeared and scared
Could you stop the meat from all the
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
Angel's with needles
poke through my eyes
Looked through the ugly light the world in
And we were no longer blind
And we were no longer blind
Put me in the motorcade
Put me in the death parade
Dress me up and make me
Dress me up and make me
Your dying god
No we hold the "ugly head"
The Mary whore is at the bed
They've cast the shadow of our perfect death
In the sun in the dirt
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