The toke is in your blood, my son
God has kissed them one by one
So let them have their smoking gun
(in the little brown house)

No longer an empty lot, my son
The colors of uniforms are one
Perdition's lust with a phantom's gun
(in the little brown house)

There is a place to lay
Where the scent of air is smooth
From the herbs you grew, He gave
Where you cured the sheep and slaves

There is a place so true
A sentiment so smooth
Where you'll never be ashamed
Son, you'll never be the same

The toke is in your blood, my son
God has kissed them one by one
So let them have their smoking gun
(in the little brown house)

No longer an empty lot, my son
The colors of uniforms are one
Perdition's lust with a phantom's gun
(in the little brown house)

The body is the flood
The mass is the lost child
Denial, denial, perhaps more denial might cover the blood

The body is the flood
The mass is the lost child
Denial, denial, perhaps more denial might cover the blood