sky the cold of grain

clouds beneath his chest

he scratches the surface of his belly

and he wonders why

he’s not a snake like the rest of ‘em

slithering up each others slide

he doesn’t play reptile games

like the best of ‘em

ooh.
ooh.
ooh.
it hurts.

he likes truth, it’s a rarity

kids get killed for less

he likes laughter and sincerity

but that don’t prove your money’s best

he’s an animal for sure

beyond religion’s call

beyond the call of men

who try kill him

ooh.
ooh.
ooh.
it hurts.

they don’t make ‘em like they should be

they’re just monsters on legs

and if you get to catch one

your dogs will get more than dregs

they don’t make ‘em like they should be

honesty art and gruel

ain’t fed to them when they’re babies

they’re taught to rule the world

they’re taught to rule the world

they are taught

to rule

the world

ooh.
ooh.
it hurts