Rooster Crow

Count the times the rooster crows/
For each father, son, and holy shit I think I am my father’s ghost/
Where the hell did Jesus go?/
I don’t want to be the one whose blood like wine is spilt and drunk/
Death is soft and life is hard/
If I cannot find a shooting star I’ll wish upon a satellite/
Light a pack of cigarettes/
Smoke them all just to forget it’s you who led yourself into this night
Night is tired but the stars don’t blink/
Everything’s lying in the kitchen sink/
And Jesus aint coming back from the brink/
And Jesse aint coming back from the stink
So come little doggies won’t you feed from my hand/
Outside the snow is falling but it doesn’t land/
And I know a girl who’s a Marlboro man/
With eyes full of pearls and a mouth full of sand/
Bring your broken mammals to the mine by the city/
Light a pack of Camels designed by committee/
So it’s fitting that we’re sitting on our unmarked graves/
Sing a song of penance and pencil in your names
Everyone’s an alien/
Everything’s a sin only if you have enough creativity/
T’s made out of cedar wood/
Taken from the desert as she screams like animals in heat/
Another mother goes into labor as angels sing these Christmas carols/
Down the hall, into the chamber, up the action, and out the barrel/
I’ll give you back your thirty pieces/
But that don’t mean we get back Jesus
Legs are bound but my arms are wide/
I’m coming down where I once was high/
And in three days I might not arise/
But at least you can say I was crucified