Pulse

my baby paints herself red

she paints her hair

her hair is dead

she's living in the city

with the bodies that scream

we are all jesus

we all dream

see the dancer in there reeling

paint the sky upon the ceiling

four useless gods upon a day

so blinded by the filth on sunday

saying the words for the idiots

you are miracle drivel

optical sewer

listens to the flowers fall

paint the words upon the wall

this is the pulse of fools like you

who sound so red and turn so blue

the sound of uselessness in slumber

war is over if you want

see the dancer's semen reeling

paint the sea upon the ceiling

pulse

my baby paints herself red

she paints her hair

her hair is dead

she's living in the city

with the bodies that scream

we are all jesus

we all dream

see the dancer's semen reeling

paint the sky upon the ceiling

that's pulse