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