Down From Above

Your mother made you cry when she told you about the womb

And how people die

Watching over you when you were young

Smiling when you learned to crawl

You don't know her at all

It's a dirty job, but they're very suave

Jesus high on wine weeping turpentine

Daddy's voice like an intercom connected to a hidden room

Where yellow roses bloom

A sacred mountain near Peterborough where clouds paint a picture so calm

That they swallowed Mom

It's a dirty job but they're very suave

Jesus high on wine, weeping turpentine

What are they doing in there?

Have they got guns?

Make you run up and down the same hill

And they'll break your will

Was it Christmas or Groundhog Day when your friends turned to shadows

And they dragged you away

Tell nobody that you've been here, don't breathe a word that's been said

(Now there's a scar)

upon your forehead

It's a dirty job but they're very suave

Jesus high on wine, weeping turpentine

What are they doing in there?

Have they got guns?

Whether Mount Pinatubo

Or the threat of God's love

There'll always be something that's raining

Down from above.

Down from above.

Down from above.

Down from above...