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There's a path, lined with pines, and some spray-painted steeland some brains, like bikewheels, humming hornetsThere are piles of notebooks and textbooks and thingsripped by teachers from lockers with no lock upon themI see beads on our rosaries feed on our memorieseach prayer correlates to my conscienceTeach me each nuance of Godteach me how to sin rightShow me the face of the Virgin Marywash with the water of her mercywhile I lie in the parking lot bleedingthe brutal youth Costello's preachingShow me the face of my old math teachertook us to church and taught us proverbsthen he cheated on his wife with a colleaguewhile we watched some Spanish movieI see John hugging her on the steps of the churchwe learned much about love, but not the right kindI see me, between the trees, with a menacing looklost in thoughts way too grim for the 8th gradeLike, "How many miles in the sky must I beto be happy, while air-loss kills thinking?And at that high altitude, could that new bloodless brainhold no guilt?"Letras de cancionesShow me the face of Jesus smilingnot the ones where he's nearly dyingChrist, I love all you've done and statedbut your double-edged sword's too serratedShow each phase of my social slumberwhen I loved antique counter-cultureplease don't stop this song in its tracksI know it's rambling; let me point the point backLet me point the point backSo I'll look him in the feetand I'll tell him that I can calm downBut I'm stapled to defacement of desksand I can't stop nowand the best little thoughts will arrive when I circle the schoolso to make sure the messages project,I need bigger toolsWhen I write,"Fuck it, you'll fly just like I am when without,and believe me, I'm going and gonewith no ripcord allowed!"So I hope that these markersdried so tight to the bricksso that when this building's torn down,the sentiment sticksThe sentiment sticksit'll always existthe sentiment sticksit'll always existand with every secondreplaying every day,it's hard to live like this From Letras Mania