This song goes out 
to all the hopeless sinners, 
with grave allegiances, 
so meaningless and vain, 

The walking wounded in a pagent of contenders
Who balance on a rail of pain for just a pail of rain

And everything is barely mist, blood relations and bricks
my expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this, 
once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is? 

In my rectory of doubt, I kneel to pray like one devout, 
As time the great gray dreamless sleep of a useless modern god
erodes away each storied day as wretched Adams with [bad word] to pay
Content upon a rail of pain for just a little rain.

And everything is dearly missed, blood relations and bricks
my expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this, 
once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is? 

There's an endless disposition, 
and it doesn't mean a [bad word] thing? 
there's space for a paper-airplane race in the eye of a hurricane. 

And if pigs could fly, then surely so could I, 
but this pedestrian knows better than to even try, 
and my divinity is caught between the colors of a butterfly. 

And everything is dearly missed, blood relations and bricks
my expression, my confession, add it up, extract duress and more than this, 
once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is? 
All there is?