Tuez Le Tous Dieu Reconnaitra Les Siens

So we played our games

in the dug-out graves

Shouting curses at the dirt

'til the Messiah showed his face,

With his soap-stone eyes

and his seaweed beard

and he scolded us so sharply

with his winding river tongue.

It was not my place

to be calling names

'Cause I was the oil-spitting acid-tripping dog

"I would like to see you at your worst"

What's your worst?

So you'll sleepwalk home

in a sick moon's glow

Just a lonely set of bones

beside a lonely service road

You will crack your skull

like a rotting hull

just to picture all the good you could've done yourself

by picking from the tree.

So I read the psalms

off your painted palms

and they drew a darker picture

than our father would've liked.

It is not your place

to be digging graves

Should have learned from my mistakes

and left it up to fate.