Converts Songtext
von Protomartyr

Room 17
On the road between Cincinnati and Imwas
Two feeble minds, who their mother despised
Patrol their bleak horizons
They′re looking for meaning in shallow mirrors
Can a God be found in such self-regard?

James Donald, James David find themselves in finance
The low morals of Hamel and Bowman got fat
Off the taste mediocrity provides
And up jumps sulfurous Pete, a wax German Nazgûl
In the blood of the innocent steeped

Combine, deform, convert, repeat
Initialize and drop the periods, please
Teal-skinned Scratch says, "Transform for appearances
A link of the chain, manifest in politics"


And I'll tell you my vision
Just don′t ask where my boyfriends go
Drop to your knees, whey-faced boy, and drink deep
'Cause the old and the poor
The stranger and the meek gotta go
Close all the gates to them

Adding salt to wine to make blood is fine
Adding spite to flesh to make bread is fine and good
Adding salt to wine to make blood is fine
Adding spite to flesh to make bread is fine and good
Adding salt to wine to make blood is fine
Adding spite to flesh to make bread is fine and good
So good

Room 18
On the road between Middletown and Damascus
A floating head fearing death gestures towards prayer
Its mind is bent on technicalities
If deeds and words are your worth, perhaps conversion failed?

If it's deeds and words
It′s fire in this world or the next, it′s fire
If it's deeds and words
It′s fire in this world or the next, it's fire