Track byGlassjaw
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." 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 constructed us all in El Segundo, While the shivering children prayed. Demons in, demons out. Cry for dawn. Gratis. Bored. I'm, 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. ? just been mugged I wait for you, having just been mugged Feeling warm, having just been mugged In the sun I've got this for you Under my fingernails. And I brought this for you. It's typically Sunday. And I got this for you It's under my fingernails. And I brought it for you Demons in, demons out. Cry for dawn. Gratis. Bored. I'm, 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.