Johnny on the spot, like a plummeting butterfly
A pocket full of miracles in a pair of pants He left
Baking in the sun
"He never hurt no one"
Torn jeans, with splotches of bleach and blood
Pulled the wool over the eyes of the wind
"I said my prayers," said the prayers
The water on the outside of the glass will form a halo on the wood
My own private executioner, with ice floating around in His blood
Break the table apart, build a cross
Paint it Christmas colors and shove it down a chimney stack
I love you, said the coathanger to the fetus
Nailed to the plaque
Pushed the stone from the womb
It's easier with a hand over your eyes
Give me a chance, baby Jesus,
Whoa, what's that,
Holy fuck,
We're gonna crash.
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