We all lie in a pile as the dead drives we all lie in a pile singing songs in straight lines we all like in a pile as the dead driver drives we all lie in a pile singing songs all the while i could pass away pass away and not much would be left ashes ashes on the ground i guess i never left the ground murder murder on the walls late night curtain calls are heard by skeletons in a closets man they'll reach out and grab your hands 'cause you've got grace on a bad day you've got grace throw everybody'd face under the falling eyes we hold onto this moment all our singing songs all the while i could pass away it still wouldn't feel real to methis illusive walking death holding hands with skeletons learners, teachers will provide their own sweet style of elegant lies but i won't stop trying, no i won't stop trying 'cause you've got grace on a bad day you've got grace on a bad day you've got grace thow everybody's face under the falling eyes