Godspeed, but we're only machines
Possessed by the spirit of the Holy Ghost
Got my bread, got my wine
Let's make a toast
You don't feel guilty, you feel free
So clap your hands, clap your filthy hands
So clap your hands, clap your fucking hands
(There's not any room up there for us)
Trapped under ice
For 100 days and 100 nights
I'd speak in tongues
But I'm afraid I'll drown and die
They're not buying it
Cause I'm not selling it
I've got this feeling I'm gonna lose them
Eyes roll back and we start to shake
Divine light, it starts to fade out
What if transcendence isn't
As simple as the texts read
What if there's more to you?
What if there's more to me?
Now I'm an optimist
But let's say there's nothing there waiting
And all that time sitting pretty
Was spent in vein
So clap your hands, clap your filthy hands