We are damned, and we are dead

All God's children to be sent

Into 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 stinking, before I swallow all of it?

Could you please...

Put me in the motorcade

Put me in the death parade

Dress me up take me

Dress me up and make me your dying God

Angels were 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 take me

Dress me up and make me your dying God

Now we hold the ugly head

The merry (???) is at the bed

Cast a shadow of our perfect death

In the sun, in the dirt