Searchlights on the skyline Just looking for a friend Who's gonna love my baby When she's gone around the bend? Egyptian bells are ringing When it's
Kick it We like the, we like the boys with the bullet proof vests We like the girls with the cellophane chests We like the boys with the bullet proof
Oh yeah, come on I met you at J C Penny I think your name tag, it said 'Jenny' I could've step to you with a fresh pack of gum If somehow I knew you
Don't tell your right hand, baby What your left hand do You know those road check girls Will make your brown breath blue Ooh, ooh, ooh, peaches and cream
The countryside is overgrown There's a lighthouse in her soul Wrestling with butcher girls She don't ever change her clothes Masterpieces liquidate in
Can't you hear those cavalry drums Hijacking your equilibrium Midnight hags in the mausoleum Where the pixilated doctors moan Carnivores in the Cowloon
I'm mixing business with leather Christmas with heather Freaks flock together And make all the B boys scream All right (All right) Turn it up now (Turn
I dropped my anchor in the dead of night Unpacked my suitcase and threw it away I fell asleep in the funeral fire I gave my clothes to the police man
Hot milk Mmmm tweak my nipple Champagne and ripple Shamans go cripple My sales go triple We drop lobotomy beats Evaporated meats On hi-tech street We
The snipers are passed out In the bushes again I'm glad I got my suit dry-cleaned Before the riots started 'Cause there's only rehashed faces On the
I been drifting along in the same stale shoes Loose ends tying the noose in the back of my mind If you thought that you were making your way To where
It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash soul Like a fryin' pan when the fire's gone Drivin' my pig while the bands takin' pictures in the grass And
The last survivor of a boiled crown Another casualty with the casual frown The janitor vandals they bark in your face Juveniles with the piles and paste
Knock it baby Keep on truckin' like a Novacane hurricane Low static on the paranoid shortwave Short fuse, got to dismantle Code red, what's your handle
An open road where I can breathe Where the lowest low is callin' to me I can pull myself back up, back down Stuck together like a readymade And nobody
Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading And everywhere I look there's a dead end waiting Temperature's dropping at the rotten oasis Stealing kisses
She's got cigarette on each arm She's got the Lilly-white cavity crazes She's got a carburetor tied to the moon Pink eyes looking to the food of the ages
There's a destination, a little up the road From the habitations and the towns we know A place we saw the lights turn low The jig-saw jazz and the get
