| Something in the way you crucify me
|
| It makes me smile
|
| And when you offer up your sacrament
|
| You drown the whole world in your mire
|
| You can sail on waves of shit
|
| And tap your pointless, ancient fingers to the bone
|
| But when your vessel sinks
|
| You’ll drown again and know that you’ve done nothing of your own
|
| I think I’m gonna die in a while
|
| I’m gonna hang on wood and try to smile
|
| And when peasants with their pitchforks come
|
| I’m gonna skip the town on everyone
|
| They’re all scum, they’re all scum
|
| Something in the way you evil eye me
|
| And throw your glares
|
| You masquerade as fire
|
| But behind your eyes there’s nothing but dead air
|
| You admire your reflection staring back
|
| At you from pools of shallow prose
|
| But when you meet yourself in mirrors
|
| You will know that you’ve done nothing of your own
|
| I think I’m gonna die in a while
|
| I’m gonna hang on wood and try to smile
|
| And when peasants with their pitchforks come
|
| I’m gonna skip the town on everyone
|
| They’re all scum, they’re all scum |