Boozers
As the shivering children pray
The prey, the thrill, the chill and we
With no redemption
And he'd constructed us all in El Segundo
Blessed are the sick in me
Blessed be my bed pan
In the sun, I've got this for you
This is what its like to be alone
Demons in, demons out
Within sin
I'm the matador of the children's ward
Predestination
It's a cold, having just been mugged feeling
I find time to pine
It's under my finger nails
Beggars wed choosers
It's typically Sunday
We'll stop upon dimes
We will find our souls
Children shiver in the river
Where is our God now?
Blessed are the sick
I'm wasting away
I'm the head fan
And the shells they're kept in
I'll shut out the world
Are martyrs that crumble on time
Red sheets, bed sheets
Does he watch over all in El Segundo?
He don't lie when he say under
I brought this for you
I'm digging a hole
Cry for dawn, gratis bored
When pining away my time
All wasted away
