Room 17 on the road between Cincinnati and Imwas

Two feeble minds, who their mother despised, patrol their bleak horizons

They're looking for meaning in shallow mirrors

Can a god be found in such self-regard?

James Donald and James David find themselves in finance

The low morals of Hamel & Bowman got fat off the the taste mediocrity provides

And up jumps Sulfurous Pete, a wax German Nazgûl in the blood of the innocent steeped

"Combine! Deform! Convert! Repeat! Initialize and drop the periods, please!"

Teal-skinned Scratch says, "Transform for appearances

A link of the chain, manifest in politics"

And I'll tell you my vision

Just don't ask where my boyfriends go

Drop to your knees, whey-faced boy and drink deep

'Cause the old and the poor, the stranger and the meek gotta go

Close all the gates to them

Adding salt to wine to make blood is fine

Adding spite to flesh to make bread is fine and good

Adding salt to wine to make blood is fine

Adding spite to flesh to make bread is fine and good

Adding salt to wine to make blood is fine

Adding spite to flesh to make bread is fine and good

So good

Room 18 on the road between Middletown and Damascus

A floating head fearing death gestures towards prayer

Its mind is bent on technicalities

If deeds and words are your worth, perhaps conversion failed?

If it's deeds and words, it's fire in this world or the next

It's fire

If it's deeds and words, it's fire in this world or the next

It's fire