Scanlon

Get out of the crib, walk down the hall Past the paintings on the wall You want to get to know them all Get out paper and pen, write a wishlist Of all the doors you want to walk through, that and this You know that there are so many that you miss Get into the bed, look back at all the places you've been Some that you love, others you hate; either frown or grin As you fall asleep, are you proud of where you have been?

Nine bullets it took, to kill the good priest as he lay glistening in the sun. took his pills one by one 'til they fired and broke through the skin of his belly while the little ones choked on the flesh in his cell yeah and the prophets were smoked and the holy robes soaked in red tears streaming out of his chest. Nine bullets it took! 'fore the man of the book buckled down and began to pray through the rusty old pipe that his throat was, decayed, shot a sound, harsh and frayed, as his life was unmade and his rapture betrayed "Oh God!" did he say while in the gutter he laid, full of holes, "my debt is repaid." Nine bullets were take