A Place In The Dirt

We are damned, we are dead

All God's children to be sent

To 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 thinking 'fore 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 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 cast the shadow of our perfect death

In the sun and in the dirt