Throw our bikes into the dirt As we get high at the fence behind the church Playing basketball, Christ plays guard, he's 6 foot 4 He's got a good shot, sick handle, full court vision He runs the floor It's like he sees something I can't see I am wheezing, plagued by disease He says to say a prayer and he'll get me there But I'm pretty sure we're doomed Being human feels criminal Our cardinal sins unoriginal So I look forward to the end because Jesus is my famous friend He turns gatorade back into wine So we can feel good for a while Then we lay on the cross And we fake a smile Swept into a vortex, so visceral and elegant We are small, impersonal The world is big, the world is cold Laugh along as we're sent off Stage left God, the crowd applauds And I'll die all alone They were right all along Cut to the public pool The water's holy, the leaves are too A drug rug, a slow charm exudes Smoking Marlboro reds and he looks real cool I'm skeptic but chlorine high He's got chrome pegs on his bike So I hop on and don't ask why Because a friend in death sure does sound nice And aching deep inside our soul Is the fear that we just can't be whole So I look forward to the end Let the rapture kill our faithless friends Grow afraid it's benign And I'll die not sure why So we lay on the cross and we fake a smile Swept into a vortex, so visceral and elegant We are small, impersonal The world is big, the world is cold Laugh along as we're sent off Stage left God, and the crowd applauds