We are damned, we are dead

All God's children to be sent

Into our perfect place, in the sun

In the depth(?)

There's a windshield in my heart

We are bugs so smeared and scared

Could you stop the meat from .....

Before 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

Angel's needles poke through our eyes

Looked through the ugly light the world in

We were no longer bright

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

No one holds the oakly(?) head

The mirror you hold is at the bed

It casts a shadow over perfect death

In the sun in the depth