7 trumpets in astoria

Placing pennies
On the grave of sinners
Playing god every day
'Cause someones gotta do it

Why not me?
It can't be that hard
Perform a couple miracles
They'll like that
Then the voices grew too loud
"Gotta do something about this
It's every fuckin' night with these guys"

He floods the earth

"maybe if they weren't so damn rude
Maybe if they weren't so fucking loud
Showed some compassion once in a while"

It's all the same, they kill, destroy, it's not enough

"maybe next time i'll make them mute
Kind of thinking I need a break
I'll come back in a millennia
I'll set those little fuckers straight"

Now they're tracing and counting lines on their hands
Hoping to discover superstition that they can believe

I've been God
Ain’t all that great
It's like any job
And everything is always on fire