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 hed 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