bad religion
all there is
This song goes out to all the hopeless sinners, with grave allegiances, so meaningless and vain, though walking wounded in a pageant of contenders, who balance on a rail of pain for just a pale refrain. And everything is barely 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? In my rectory of doubt, I kneel to pray like one devout, as time the great great dreamless sleep of a useless modern god erodes away each sorry day as wretched adams, one hell to pay-- contained 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 goddamn 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?