Our fat, fleshy bodies sweat it out in desert heat*
Dread drips off the sides and back into the cargo
We travel in silence to parts unknown
Methheads and Mormons
It's agreed that this is a suicide mission
But we're past the point of no return now
Second thoughts punctuate and penetrate
The stinging sensation that no one has come equipped
Blood flows up out of the salt lake
Oh we were helpless
Goners before we even knew what hit us
When I close my eyes all I see is blood flow up out of the salt lake
Blissful abyss, an abscess with sharp teeth
Blank smiles, no guarantees
Methheads and Mormons
From a safe distance ignorance is bliss
Calm punctures nerves
All of us expecting to hit paydirt
We stretch across miserable streets
We're smothered by brand names
They all scramble for the exit
We all feel trouble lurking in Kinkos' shadows
Our paycheck wrapped in sallow skin
I'll be the only one here held accountable
No one has come equipped
Methheads and Mormons
From a safe distance ignorance is bliss
The blinding light conceals your fate, your misfortune

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS