Dust Through A Fan - Bride

High heel boys

Dancing in the noise

Bright lights blind

It is play time

Silver screen smut

In the tomb of Mr. Tut

Standing tall overhead

These are the living dead

Stir the Persian smack

See young faces crack

Sold their souls for sex and green in the bathroom in the back

You never know what you might see up in the apple tree

Your time is short

How disappointed God must be

They are lovers of their own selves

Unthankful and proud

Blasphemers, disobedient, boaster

Unholy and loud

A fine snow from Bogota has everybody lying down

I see them crawl like a snake their noses to the ground

They’ll take you for all that they can

You’re just putty in their hands

You’re slipping and sliding in quicksand

You’re like the dust blown through the fan

They’ll take you for all that they can

You’re just putty in their hands

You’re slipping and sliding in quicksand

You’re like the dust blown through the fan

I’ve seen the poor, I’ve seen the needy

Pitied the rich, despised the greedy

I’ve seen the dirty, the unclean

I’ve seen the worst things that’s ever been

Seen the lost, seen the saved

Children cry at Morrison’s grave

I’ve seen the bruised in the night

Grown men cry in broad daylight

They’ll take you for all that they can

You’re just putty in their hands

You’re slipping and sliding in quicksand

You’re like the dust blown through the fan

They’ll take you for all that they can

You’re just putty in their hands

You’re slipping and sliding in quicksand

You’re like the dust blown through the fan

They’ll take you for all they can

You’re like the dust

You’re like the dust

You’re like the dust blown through the…

They’ll take you for all that they can

You’re just putty in their hands

You’re slipping and sliding in quicksand

You’re like the dust blown through the fan