Jesus Is My Ride Home

Sin first through the madness, glass and ash, rooftop perched
 Staggering captains over the backyard captive
 And it's not what's so attractive, in the madness and sin
 It's in waiting for the kids to ignite so we can see what happens
 Watch the place divide into private bathrooms, arising wide-eyed
 Scissored straws, looking surprise
 We can watch the commerce rise across the cobblestone
 Selling everything from getting stoned to being less alone
 And if you want to be left alone, endanger gutters on your own
 What's the use of those solitary rooftop blues
 When there's smoke to stain your fingers?
 Chasing rafters, raining sulfur and English on every pretty face in the room
 Oh, the gravity of the spinning ground
 It slows the growing legend in this house
 Surrounds the night, closing in like a crowd in gossip, traffic, and sound
 Oh, the soul of this dying town, it comes alive when you come around
 In every muscle twitch that shakes the dust right off your skin
 Every backseat snitch, the younger kids run and tell their friends
 All those things our private roof can bring
 Much of madness, much of madness, more of sin
 Oh, the gravity of the spinning ground
 It slows the growing legend in this house
 Surrounds the night, closing in like a crowd in gossip, traffic, and sound
 Oh, the soul of this dying town, it comes alive when you come around