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