| We are saints made of plaster, our laughter is canned | |
| We are demons that hide in the mirror | |
| But the blood on our hands | |
| Paints a picture exceedingly clear | |
| We are brimming with cumbersome, murderous greed | |
| And malevolence deep and profound | |
| We do unspeakable deeds | |
| Does our wickedness know any bounds | |
| Something's gone terribly wrong with everyone | |
| All the world is mad | |
| Darkness brings terrible things the sun is gone | |
| What vanity, our sad, wretched fires | |
| We can't medicate man to perfection again | |
| We can't legislate peace in our hearts | |
| We can't educate sin from our souls | |
| It's been there from the start | |
| Blind lead the blind into bottomless pits | |
| Still we smile and deny | |
| That we're cursed but of all our iniquities | |
| Ignorance may be the worst | |
| Something's gone terribly wrong with everyone | |
| All the world is mad | |
| Darkness brings terrible things the sun is gone | |
| What vanity, our sad, wretched fires | |
| Oh, what little light we have | |
| It only serves to show | |
| The snares and seeds of wrath | |
| We have already sewn on every path | |
| Something's gone terribly wrong with everyone | |
| All the world is mad | |
| Darkness brings terrible things the sun is gone | |
| What vanity, our sad, wretched fires |
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