I live in the fallout
Of and angry god
With Spanish catechisms
Wrapped around my arms
And I have gypsy smiles
In a box
Captured from unknown victims
On the backroads of Europe
Where little bombs go off every day
But no one stops to listen
I speak medicated
Hated by all the little match boxes
Red in the corners of your mind
I speak the language
Of my children
Like dreams of distances all wrapped up in promise
I still can't pray like that
Like I've got holy water seeping out of my ears
You just wish you could get this close to destruction
And still be able to live with yourself
While little catholic school girls
With rosaries around their necks,
It's just the next best thing to chains
So I've got nowhere to go
And I've got my own crown of thorns
So back off Lazarus, I'm already dead
But not like you can tell
Six feet under and they promised me I'd be diamonds.
I am not your half willed abortion
I'm not meant to live
Like I've got something to do here.
As I've got gypsy dancers playing war games on my feet
And sand-pillar-satan placing bets on my soul.
Because I've got Sunday school mantras
Written on my eyelids
And we all know the judgment day's
Just another word for pop quiz.