This is what it looks like
On repeat inside of this life
Hair of the dog eating dogfight
Oh, this is what it looks like
Our names on that marquee
We must say we're proud of our teeth
Some bitten hands at the feeding
Oh, but our name's on that marquee
Maybe we turn around and turn to salt
Make a scene, then refuse to blame the fall
Maybe Christ who slept don't sleep at all
When they introduce us
To the dogwood with a nail gun
Know that we go with confusion
Oh, when they introduce us
Maybe you will return with ivory feet
Maybe true, time will fuse thе chaff and wheat
Is the Christ who slept asleep on mе?
My best friend, see your soul is overdressed
What I meant, you're too chickensh*t to guess
And I can't help but wonder
As we return to dust
Is the Christ who slept asleep with us?