Young Ghosts
Young ghosts in every house
You've got cash hanging out of your mouth

Young boys in the old monsignor's room
Down here we all float just like red balloons

Well it's your turn soon

Take heed of what the prophets say
Dark pools in California

I fear the nights that I can't sleep
Mouthfuls of baby's blood and teeth

Cuz it tastes so sweet

In the year 
Of our lord
Nineteen hundred
And ninety four

I was trapped
Inside of a 
Giant black
And red rainbow

Cuz I still ain't found the lord
And he still ain't found me
What might you suppose that means?

Descend upon the holy see
Give benedict a kiss for me

You can't undo the things you've done
I spy a lie forming on your tongue

This has just begun