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 form thinking Before I swallow all of it,
Could you please? Put me in the motorcade
Put me in the death parade Take my hand and lead me
Dress me up and make me Your dying god.
Angel with needles Poked trough our eyes
And let the ugly light Of 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
Take my hand and lead me Dress me up and make me
Your dying god. Now we hold the "ugly head"
The Mary-whore is at the bed They've cast the shadow of our perfect death
In the sun and in the dirt.