High heel boys
Dancing in the noise
Bright lights blind
It is play time
Silver screen smut
In the tomb of Mr. Tut
Standing tall overhead
These are the living dead
Stir the Persian smack
See young faces crack
Sold their souls for sex and green in the bathroom in the back
You never know what you might see up in the apple tree
Your time is short
How disappointed God must be
They are lovers of their own selves
Unthankful and proud
Blasphemers, disobedient, boaster
Unholy and loud
A fine snow from Bogota has everybody lying down
I see them crawl like a snake their noses to the ground
They'll take you for all that they can
You're just putty in their hands
You're slipping and sliding in quicksand
You're like the dust blown through the fan
They'll take you for all that they can
You're just putty in their hands
You're slipping and sliding in quicksand
You're like the dust blown through the fan
I've seen the poor, I've seen the needy
Pitied the rich, despised the greedy
I've seen the dirty, the unclean
I've seen the worst things that's ever been
Seen the lost, seen the saved
Children cry at Morrison's grave
I've seen the bruised in the night
Grown men cry in broad daylight
They'll take you for all that they can
You're just putty in their hands
You're slipping and sliding in quicksand
You're like the dust blown through the fan
They'll take you for all that they can
You're just putty in their hands
You're slipping and sliding in quicksand
You're like the dust blown through the fan
They'll take you for all they can
You're like the dust
You're like the dust
You're like the dust blown through the&
They'll take you for all that they can
You're just putty in their hands
You're slipping and sliding in quicksand
You're like the dust blown through the fan