Throw our bikes into the dirt
As we get high at the fence behind the church
Playing basketball, Christ plays guard, he's 6 foot 4
He's got a good shot, sick handle, full court vision
He runs the floor
It's like he sees something I can't see
I am wheezing, plagued by disease
He says to say a prayer and he'll get me there
But I'm pretty sure we're doomed
Being human feels criminal
Our cardinal sins unoriginal
So I look forward to the end because Jesus is my famous friend
He turns gatorade back into wine
So we can feel good for a while
Then we lay on the cross
And we fake a smile
Swept into a vortex, so visceral and elegant
We are small, impersonal
The world is big, the world is cold
Laugh along as we're sent off
Stage left God, the crowd applauds
And I'll die all alone
They were right all along
Cut to the public pool
The water's holy, the leaves are too
A drug rug, a slow charm exudes
Smoking Marlboro reds and he looks real cool
I'm skeptic but chlorine high
He's got chrome pegs on his bike
So I hop on and don't ask why
Because a friend in death sure does sound nice
And aching deep inside our soul
Is the fear that we just can't be whole
So I look forward to the end
Let the rapture kill our faithless friends
Grow afraid it's benign
And I'll die not sure why
So we lay on the cross and we fake a smile
Swept into a vortex, so visceral and elegant
We are small, impersonal
The world is big, the world is cold
Laugh along as we're sent off
Stage left God, and the crowd applauds