I guess I met a couple bona fide angels

But they all seemed kind of fat and fatigued

And now we're trying to match their mouths from the screens

Match their heads to their dreams



Everybody's searching out of the softest seat

All dolled up for the funeral feast

Everybody's stabbing at the biggest piece

Clever kids kissing on a bleak retreat



Now I'm not really sure we were lovers

Or if it was just some kind of car crash

Now we're trying to find a DNA match

To match the heads with our hats



Everybody's reaching for the sharpest knife

Legs wide open on the opening night

Everybody's bathing in the laser lights

Clever kids screwing with some new device



Sunday morning, sidewalks splattered

Feverish in stylish tatters

Didn't this used to sting like grammar?

I remember when it mattered



Can't get over what's transpired

Left home virgins, came back vampires

Belt it out like back stretched choirs

We're either dead or really tired



Everybody's coming on their navy sheets

Everybody's coming on their navy sheets

Everybody wants to suck on something sweet

Everybody's coming on their navy sheets



Everybody's coming on their navy sheets