That burning feeling   Red liquids, clear liquids   Blessed are the sick   Children shiver in the river      Where is our God now?   Does he watch over all in El Segundo?   He don't lie when he say under      I'm wasting away   I find time to pine   When pining away my time   Within sin      With no redemption   We will find our souls   And the shells they're kept in   All wasted away      Blessed are the sick in me   The prey, the thrill, the chill and we   Are martyrs that crumble on time   Predestination      We'll stop upon dimes   And he'd constructed us all in El Segundo   As the shivering children pray      Demons in, demons out   Cry for dawn, gratis bored   I'm the matador of the children's ward   Beggars wed choosers      Red sheets, bed sheets   Boozers   I'm the head fan   Blessed be my bed pan      It's a cold, having just been mugged feeling      In the sun, I've got this for you   It's under my finger nails   I brought this for you   It's typically Sunday      I'm digging a hole   I'll shut out the world   This is what its like to be alone   This is what its like to be alone