We are the sons and daughters
Of the dead and the dying

We are the Casanova of religion
Masturbating our thoughts with salvation

We are the confused who dug themselves a home
Beneath the textbooks and lore

Oh please don’t rain on me mister god!

Is it a terrible time to be young?
Everything seems to grow up so fast but us

Playing under the canopy of city lights
These sands betray my feet.