I heard that Jesus is coming back. He'll be a wonderful dancer. He'll set us all on a righteous path. Give us all of the answers. And when we are through with him, String him up from a tree. And maybe I'll spit on him... For setting me free. The longer I'm in this garden, The smarter I seem to get, There's something about that tree, That I wasn't supposed to forget. I just want to rule everything for myself. Because we're tired of paradise. And I'm itching for hell. We've been in the desert, For a near forty years. We're using our own children's hands, To dry off our tears. Oh, and the promise land, it's getting closer, I know... Oh, but the wilderness... Looks everyday more like home.