A Place In The Dirt

We are damned, we are dead All God's children to be sent Into our perfect place, in the sun In the depth(?) There's a windshild in my heart We are bugs so smeared and scared Could you stop the meat from ..... Before I swallow all of it Could you please Put me in the motorcade Put me in the death parade Dress me up and take me Dress me up and make me your dying God Angel's needles poke through our eyes Looked through the ugly light the world in We were no longer bright We were no longer blind Put me in the motorcade Put me in the death parade Dress me up and take me Dress me up and make me your dying God No one holds the oakly(?) head The mirror you hold is at the bed It casts a shadow over perfect death In the sun in the depth