ghost of jesus f*cking the christ

under the cross silhouette
the gun inside of her clicked, i smoked a cigarette
and we were perfect

i woke, in hot pillow sweat
the gun pointed at me, and my heart's still so wet
bloody, but, happy

won't ever want to go, where there's a ghost jesus
let me fly to where she is

i won't hang my head up high, on that cold crucifix
r.i.p where we use to kiss

sorry when i'm too honest
i can't believe in god, without a gorgeous goddess
in his flawless plots

'cause i saw this all spiral
from a lightyear away, when a gun's indescribable
might hear you say

won't ever want to go, where there's a ghost jesus
let me fly to where she is

i won't hang my head up high, on that cold crucifix
r.i.p where we use to kiss