These roses are the pleasures of the flesh
These ones here they are the pleasures of the spirit
And tucked behind a pornographic picture in a frame
The troops found the pierced heart and they all gathered near it

And the dust clouds bloomed in the dark
And the face gazed up from the frame
Roomful of French troops in a Franciscan abbey
History does not recall their names

Of the several things that you have to do today
You're gonna regret one
This generation asks for a sign
It isn't gonna get one

Bertha took the pictures to the priest
And the priest fell on his face upon the floor
And the story lived on for a decade or two
But no one really knows it anymore

But the blessed heart is seen in the airbrush
And the blessed heart is beating on the wind
And the bodies of the faithful stacked by dozens by the roadsides
Stripped and scourged and skinned

Of the several things that you have to do today
You're gonna regret one
This generation asks for a sign
It isn't gonna get one