We Are Damned, We Are Dead


All God's Children To Be Sent


Into Our Perfect Place, In The Sun


In The Depth(?)


There's A Windshield In My Heart


We Are Bugs So Smeared And Scared


Could You Stop The Meat From .....


Before I Swallow All Of It


Could You Please


Put Me In The Motorcade


Put Me In The Death Parade


Dress Me Up And Take Me


Dress Me Up And Make Me Your Dying God


Angel's Needles Poke Through Our Eyes


Looked Through The Ugly Light The World In


We Were No Longer Bright


We Were No Longer Blind


Put Me In The Motorcade


Put Me In The Death Parade


Dress Me Up And Take Me


Dress Me Up And Make Me Your Dying God


No One Holds The Oakly(?) Head


The Mirror You Hold Is At The Bed


It Casts A Shadow Over Perfect Death


In The Sun In The Depth