We are damned, we are dead
All god's children to be sent
Into our perfect place in the sun
In the dirt
There's a windshield in my heart
We are bugs so smeared and scarred
Could you stop the meat from shit
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 and needles Poke through my eyes
They let the ugly light world in
We were no longer blind
Here we hold the ugly head and every whore is at the bed
It casts a shadow of our perfect death
In the sun in the dirt