(Part One)
Tell me what you want me to think
You can lead me to water, you can make me drink
I trust you if you say it's good
You wouldn't hurt me and I don't think you could
Tell me what I don't need to keep
I overpacked and the sidewalk is steep
To your cathedral at the Tapenade Hill
'Makes me tired, and dear, it always will
Tell me why I haven't been healed
I haven't changed, and nothing's been revealed
And what's in the blood of the way and the light
That makes my sin Sunday morning, and makes me drunk at night
Tell me that I'm more than a dream,
A golden hell prize you failed to redeem
Don't tell me that you've always known
That I'd wake up first, and you'd wake up alone
(Part Two)
Sweet young man, goes walking down the street wiping blood off his hands
And it doesn't look good but he does what he can
To erase the signs
Of a nightmare he faced
At the scene of the crime
She snuck up behind him
As he knelt by her victim
Whispered, "I knew you'd come
But there's nothing to be done,
And if I was you, I'd run
'Cause no one cares
About what you felt
When they see any sighs of guilt
You kissed its face,
You held its hand
You always were a sweet young man."
He's still a mess,
So he hires a car
To take him to the fountain
At Balboa Park
Where he used to play
When he was young
He's gonna wash off
In front of God and everyone.