Pulse

my baby paints herself red
 she paints her hair
 her hair is dead
 she's living in the city
 with the bodies that scream
 we are all jesus
 we all dream
 see the dancer in there reeling
 paint the sky upon the ceiling
 four useless gods upon a day
 so blinded by the filth on sunday
 saying the words for the idiots
 you are miracle drivel
 optical sewer
 listens to the flowers fall
 paint the words upon the wall
 this is the pulse of fools like you
 who sound so red and turn so blue
 the sound of uselessness in slumber
 war is over if you want
 see the dancer's semen reeling
 paint the sea upon the ceiling
 pulse
 my baby paints herself red
 she paints her hair
 her hair is dead
 she's living in the city
 with the bodies that scream
 we are all jesus
 we all dream
 see the dancer's semen reeling
 paint the sky upon the ceiling
 that's pulse