Lite Of The World Songtext
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We might end up back on all fours, because there's one thing that endures:
the rigamarole that some call a soul but I call a habit.
How do we flourish in this din while staying marvelously thin?
A monitor that will block all the fat before we can grab it.
chorus:
I feel the brilliant glow caressing me. Couldn't this blessing be
the lite of the world?
When all the killing gets so serial, let's get ethereal
in the lite of the world.
What medicine can keep us numb? This predigested pabulum,
so pleasant and warm - it doesn't inform, it only gets faster.
It's even obvious to me that optimism seems to be
in tenor and pitch a discipline which I never could master.
chorus
Light as a breeze that addles the head, as frothy as cheese that's ready to spread -
whatever he sees, wherever he tread the banner unfurled.
But none of the screams and none of the cries can enter his dreams or open his eyes,
'cause caught in the beams they dwindled in size and shriveled and curled
in the lite of the world.
We lite-en yogurt, Coke and beer and make religion out of fear
with sex and, of course, a dash of remorse to tickle and tease us.
That's why I'd never be enticed to touch the God they call the Christ,
but still maybe I would sleep with the guy who calls himself Jesus.
chorus
the rigamarole that some call a soul but I call a habit.
How do we flourish in this din while staying marvelously thin?
A monitor that will block all the fat before we can grab it.
chorus:
I feel the brilliant glow caressing me. Couldn't this blessing be
the lite of the world?
When all the killing gets so serial, let's get ethereal
in the lite of the world.
What medicine can keep us numb? This predigested pabulum,
so pleasant and warm - it doesn't inform, it only gets faster.
It's even obvious to me that optimism seems to be
in tenor and pitch a discipline which I never could master.
chorus
Light as a breeze that addles the head, as frothy as cheese that's ready to spread -
whatever he sees, wherever he tread the banner unfurled.
But none of the screams and none of the cries can enter his dreams or open his eyes,
'cause caught in the beams they dwindled in size and shriveled and curled
in the lite of the world.
We lite-en yogurt, Coke and beer and make religion out of fear
with sex and, of course, a dash of remorse to tickle and tease us.
That's why I'd never be enticed to touch the God they call the Christ,
but still maybe I would sleep with the guy who calls himself Jesus.
chorus
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