White picket smiles hiding the rot inside Pressed collars choking on a swallowed pride They wash their hands in the gilded fountains (raspy) And build their heaven on a mountain of bones I’m suffocating in the perfume of the lie (harmonized, second voice a third above) I can't breathe this holy air... So pull me a chair at the table of the damned Where blood is just blood, and dirt is just dirt I’d rather drink the dregs with an honest thief Than starve inside a room with the saints of hurt Ash on the floor and a trembling hand At least the devil here is a man I understand No plastic halos, no rehearsed regret (raspy, choppy) Just the beautiful ugly of the things we try to forget So pull me a chair at the table of the damned Where blood is just blood, and dirt is just dirt I’d rather drink the dregs with an honest thief Than starve inside a room with the saints of hurt Solo I see the shadow behind your painted face I’d rather burn in the truth of the fire Than freeze to death in the arms of a righteous liar! Honest thieves... (harmonized) Sit me with the honest thieves... There's no pretending left to do (whispered over a single ringing distorted chord) I’ll take the dark over you
