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SORDID DOCTRINE LYRICS
"And Then the Rain Came" (1987 Demo)
1. Helpless Nomination
2. Burnt Offerings
3. Gasoline Man
4. The Street Cleaner
5. Constant Struggle
6. The Walls Have Eyes
1. Helpless Nomination
Trapped within their mother's womb
That fertile and sacred domain
A locked culture is stirring
Umbilicaled fetus held contained
Not yet considered
But still he is contained
Not yet considered
But still he is contained
Still he is contained
Still he is contained
Still he is contained
The surgeon's hands are stained
His invasion like intercourse
Clay of protoplasm
Twisted and molded without force
The art of manipulation
They say it's without force
The art of manipulation
They say it's without force
They say it's without force
They say it's without force
They say it's without force
They say it's without force
Is he the ashes of a love?
Or the cinders of heated lust?
A trophy of blood and veins
A creature risen from the dust
He is like the earth
And must return to the dust.....
He is like the earth
And must return to the dust.....
Return to the dust
Return to the dust
Return to the dust
Return to the dust
2. Burnt Offerings
Barren lands. Barren minds
Blown into a gusty wind
Altar of burnt offerings
On the edge of the universe
Just another barren planet
Sun scorched dry planet
Just another lifeless planet
Filled with dust and granite
3. Gasoline Man
The horror - the smell - of the gasoline man
Caked on grease - backroad limp
Toting a gasoline can
Enough gas to stir
A yellowjacket storm
Enough gas! To break
That fevered hellish swarm
He walks the backroads
He walks the backroads
He walks the backroads
Out of gas on the backroad.
Few cars go in that deep
Now the wind unties the kudzu
All the willows begin to weep
Like distant thunder growing closer
Ah! The gasoline man
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi!
Ah! The gasoline man
Black cat scratches across the sky
Black cat scratches across the sky
Black cat scratches across the sky
Tears of lost souls fall on Georgia clay
Georgia red clay!
The tears of lost souls fall on Georgia clay
Red mud.
The tears of lost souls fall on Georgia clay
Red blood - red blood!
Through the eyes of a young child
Tearing, biting, screaming wild!
Imprisoned in the back of the sedan
Screams never rise beyond the tips of trees
Pumping pedals, turning keys!
No!
The gasoline man
The gasoline man
The gasoline man
No!
The horror - the smell - of a gasoline man
Caked on grease - backroad limp
Toting a gasoline can
Enough gas to stir
A yellowjacket storm
Enough gas! To break
That fevered hellish swarm
He walks the backroads
He walks the backroads
He walks the backroads
4. The Street Cleaner
Darkness funnels in through the pores of this fossiled earth
The melancholic youth slash to de-fuse their birth
Candy carpetbaggers brainwash children.
A rising stench of vomit burns on fragile skin
The metal and stone is just a bloody crust
It's always a virgin that that the river lust
Missiles lie insomniac in the silos.
Filth rolls down the street. As the cold wind blows.
Another tear to be swept by the street cleaner
Another tear to be swept by the street cleaner
Another tear to be swept by the street cleaner
Another tear to be swept by the street cleaner
A ressurection every day.
Born again. Born again. Born again.
No king of rock.
Doesn't need a guitar. Doesn't need a cross
Sweeps up every sorrow.
This ragged messiah comes across
5. Constant Struggle
The games we play. On the playgrounds and battlefields.
In the back of our conscience. Our social splatter-shields.
We leave no reasons for our hostilities
Still our violence marches with ambiguity
Learn to respect.
You shall receive respect.
True happiness is for committed intellect.
Man can't be intellect - 'till his last war is over
When he shares all his resources to masses of conciously sober.
Oh world acceptance I won't hold my breath
They'll shuffle warheads in a card game of death
Why even worry - it isn't worth the pain
Avid concentration just adds to the strain.
Learn to respect.
You shall receive respect.
True happiness is for committed intellect.
Man can't be intellect - 'till his last war is over
When he shares all his resources to masses of conciously sober.
6. The Walls Have Eyes
The crime rate is up.
But they walk the streets, in the height of urban fashion
An evangelist on every corner
Saying "Who is like the beast - who is able to make war with him?"
And perched in the attic of solitude
I can hear the growl of the beast.
And the distant hum of a death song
And the humidity sends my pasted
Angels crumbling to the floor
I breathe the stale air
I know there's a war
I breathe the stale air
I know there's a war
From up here those rowhouses
Look like walls and the walls have eyes
The walls have eyes
And they wait on your mistakes
A wrong turn - a wrong place
There goes the hiss of the snake
There's a snake that goes back to the garden
Every hour on the hour
Seems as though there's always someone running
But they'll be back - they'll be up before dawn
They wake up running. But never do they escape
And the concrete trail leads on
Through a web of frightened souls
Through a violent night and a smoggy dawn
Please tell them there's a war
Please tell them there's a war
The walls have eyes
The walls have eyes
The walls have eyes
The walls have eyes
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