Grudge Music - Every Time I Die

Deaf blind granite block content to graze with familiar stock
A local lard not an english black
We don't venture into the fog
Homeward bound and gagged
Not twenty steps from the door
Dispensable as cooks at sea or journalists sent to war
No one found me spellbinding no one offered me a drink
But by crippled hands at the potters wheel
I was given shape and insects appeal
Sent to work the graveryard shift at heaven's JDC
A legend to the peasants there
But lights had caught me unaware
I've wandered into your graces so how do I get out
How do I get out
How do I get out
How do I get out
It's been quiet for too long
But pompous phrases and alarms can't help you now
And every pervert outside of every fence has had
His fill of your kids
He's clocking out
Such indecisive crusaders
A martyr made into a scenic blur
A lookout into a left behind
What wounded pride
No one finds me spellbinding
No ones buying me a drink
I've been to the lions
Left high and dry by the eightth circle of hell
Where are the spoils
I want the ticker tape parade
D**n these filthy rats