I’m gonna liken your face to the grave
Get a little slice of heaven
Precipice on indifference
Which is a snowy hill, blue sky, green trees

You start to see an opening
And are stoned
because the opportunity of spiritual experience
Is a master of the unknown

I choose not to look into her jaded eyes
Not tonight
I choose not to water it down
This is heaven or high hell

Get a grip on the shovel
If you plan to reach the grave
But hesitate and notice a blood soaked sky
With strains of sun ripping through
Like a tangerine crushed with cherries
Like red wine and hindsight
Which is orange

Do you wanna push for a purge
Do you wanna strike up the conflict tonight
When everyone just wants to get some sleep
Their effigies are hard to follow

Here’s how I picture things
Everything turned on it’s head
A man climbing down the tower of chapel
Hanging into the sky