Lyrics Jesus Is Dead - Bleachers

Each night I pray that I'll meet God
Under the worry of my thoughts
Uh-huh

Nothing better than to be
All Phantom Thread with somebody
So nice

A kid I used to babysit
Drinks himself off a Dimes Square bench
Uh-huh, uh-huh
Oh yeah

Tell them to grease the wheels
Pull the arrow back, start the appeal
I'm not the man who sold the world

I saw exactly what I asked
For I'm the well-adjusted herb
Uh-huh

A teenage girl just sized me up
It's something I don't wanna discuss
Uh-huh, what's wrong?
Oh yeah (to do)

Tell them to grease the wheels
Pull the arrow back, start the appeal
I'm not the man who sold the world

Jesus is dead and so's New York
I built a place right down the shore
It's nice

Do you remember DFA?
Misshapes and, oh, the great Longwave
I do and I miss it
All the time

Tell them to grease the wheels
Flip the hourglass, start up the steel
I'm not the man who sold the world

We drove forever and the venue herbs
Took all of our money and all of our merch
Fuck off (fuck off, fuck off), to them

So let's make it Bleachers, make it shore
The louder you scream, the harder he blows
You know what I mean
Texas man cause a scene

Tell them to grease the wheels
Pull the arrow back, start the appeal
I'm not the man who sold the world