| We are damned and we are dead
|
| All god’s children to be sent
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| To our perfect place
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| In the sun, in the dirt
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| There’s a windshield in my heart
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| We are bugs so smeared and scarred
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| Could you stop the meat from thinking
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| Before I swallow all of it? |
| Could you please
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| Put me in the motorcade
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| Put me in the death parade
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| Dress me up and take me
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| Dress me up and make me your dying god
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| Angels with needles poked through our eyes
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| And let the ugly light of the world in
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| We were no longer blind
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| 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»
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| The Mary-whore is at the bed
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| They’ve cast the shadow of our perfect death
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| In the sun and in the dirt |