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