This Sect

Life of Truth Crime

What good is a road paved with good intentions
When there are cracks in the sidewalks?
Hookers with hearts of gold up for show
They rub knees raw, we rub knees raw, oh rub knees raw

Detox the soul
Stigmata needles
Like clockwork
Punching holes

The trophy daydream has a body, has a form
That’s its head firmly mounted on the wall
A damn fine conversation piece
As we stagger
We limp in line
In a life of truth crime
Perfect tans – retarded sunshine

Detox the soul
Stigmata needles
Like clockwork
Punching holes

Glorified crutches
Sexy yet skeletal
Easily impressed
By the latest pedestal

(Those are dirty fingers on your penis, son)

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