Tabernacle Moneygun

Don't call me a corporate whore, and don't point that poison ballpoint pen at me
You thought you'd meet me on the internet, but no, that really isn't me, you see
Every box of bullshit that you think I cart around, try to define a style as you put your head in the ground
Every dedication that you've made to all you trust, is covered with your ego, is covered in blood and rust
And don't point your money gun at me, unless what's in it's interest-free
Don't take for granted that your alias you hide behind is older than the blues
Someday they'll bury you, and just like me, it's plain to see that a lovе-hate-god filled platitude of solitudе of ancient days and crushed bouquets and what's at stake is solid state, and defining laws that govern you is simply irresponsible, through and through
And a marksman is a tired man, and the woman may get shot, 'cause she's there beside me
And Jesse James, and John Train, and Judas Smith, and the scotch mist, and hydraulic panes that rearrange to a stealth and pride
There's a boy inside, who wants to come on out, when his time is up
And no, don't point your money gun at me, put it to your own head, pull the trigger'n there you go
Now you've thought that you're not a better man, pride injection, through and through
Someone's caught you in the act, your picture on the radon tube
Have a lobbying disciple there, he's screwed up indiscriminately, his heart's so close, it's stuck in hosts and trotting on, controlling grounds, midnight confessionals, and where's your abandoned lame disciples?
They can't walk, can hardly talk, a rudiment of what's been lost
And cross the river, see you there, infinite flaws of self-control have tied you up in a beauty shop, there for all to see, right
We'll take a hatchet, cut it down, the word play and the display, and a catalog of dismay, in circumspect and dialect, and all hyperbole, without a soul and governess, and Inverness
And a girl's bringing a car around, let's jump in and peel on out of here, right
We'll stick the machine on cruise control, take off down the cluttered road, straight out west, a red-eyed mess, but that's okay
The feeling's best when we're away
Now pull that camera back, and take it all in, now