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Fog - Holy! Holy! Holy! lyrics

There's a neon pink werewolf
Suspended above
The ceiling of
The sunken sunset sky
That plucks
All of the out of all time infants
From the brimming black of birth
And drops them gently down on earth
Much too soon/not nearly soon enough

With palettes for palms,
they wipe off on the pants-thigh
Of out-of-place outfits...
Sobbing psalms in hot-houses,
Tangled up in cables and vines.
An American mensch
Wrestles the western present
In his half-ass-ded portrait
Under surveillance
His dark matter informed
by national ghost anthems
and moonlit leopard eyes.

But what with everyone
as confused as everyone,
The moment, chasing it's own tail,
by the time he tried to do his vocals
The loops had all drifted out of time
On the shitty 4-track beat.
And he fell asleep.
In the un-lush foreground.
Nothing was lined up.
The truth was marching in (place).