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