9.A Place In The Dirt
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-whore is at the bed
They've cast the shadow of our perfect death in the sun and in
the dirt
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