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taring out the window of tour bus
and its just the horny driver and us
we sit and trade wit and smoke and we cuss
talking bout our friendly border drug bust
and i know the future's cloudy and gray
record like mine, give up or go gay
you're looking down at me with blue and black eyes
spitting down a storm from purple night skies
and i know the concepts muddy and tripe
that all that is large and all that is slight
flowing in the stream of holy floodlights
I've read the holy books, lord knows they bite
if this is your will in my testament
i will bow to no belief that they've bent
still I'm just a sperm begat from your love
basking in the bread and the blood of one dove


can I lie with you in your grave?


there's a crack in the of the edge of the end of the world
where I will sit with my love and explore as we swirl
eat us up, break us down to the tiniest cells
in a room with a view and a window to hell
in a room where the bodies will display what they've done
and march through museums that repel what they've done

shot up through the sky by a cannon of sin
we'll reluctantly let them in


so can I lie in your crack in the of the edge of the end of the world
where I sit with my love and explore as we swirl
eat us up, break down to the tiniest cells
in a room with a view to the window to hell
with those who bury bodies in the peril to fight
will sit in ideas and regret what they've done

shot up through the sky by a cannon of sin
we'll reluctantly let them in
so can I lie in your grave?

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