Dust Through a Fan Lyrics

High heel boys dancing in the noise
Bright lights blind, it is play time
Silver screen smut in the tomb of Mr. Tut
Standing tall overhead, these are the living dead
Stir the Persian smack, see young faces crack
Sold their souls for sex and greed, in the bathroom, in the black
You never know what you might see up in the apple tree
Your time is short, how disappointed God must be

They are lovers of their own selves
Unthankful and proud blasphemers, disobedient, boaster, unholy, and loud
A fine snow from Bogota has everybody lying down
I see them crawl like a snake, their noses to the ground

They'll take you for all they can
You're just putty in their hands
You're slippin' and slidin' in quicksand
You're like the dust blown through a fan

I've seen the poor, seen the needy
Pitied the rich, despised the greedy
I've seen the dirty, the unclean
I've seen the worst things ever been
I've seen the lost, seen the saved
Children cry at Morrison's grave
I've seen the bruised in the night
Grown men cry in broad daylight