Ring out the gong again! Carve out this hymn in skin! When the party blacks out again, you're still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin. Slap the gong again! Carve out this hymn in skin!

Happy Birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin. There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound, glossy skeletons, boyfriends but no friends. And that birthday greeting on your face reads one more year of smiles faked!

Ring out the gong again! Carve out this hymn in skin! When they've pissed between every sheet of your father's bed, those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned. And when they've hurled every gutted couch cushion from the living room into your father's swimming pool, you're bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy's gruel.

Happy Birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin. There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound, glossy skeletons, boyfriends but no friend And that birthday greeting on your face reads one more year of smiles faked!

Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong! So now you've made it to the top of their list. Congratulations, you're fucking's greatest hit!!!

Behind husks of leather, photo albums shield their laughter
You thought they'd make you breakfast the morning after?

Your fantasy season
Gangrened off the calendar
Gangrened off the calendar
Your fantasy season (Gangrened off the calendar)
Your fantasy season (Gangrened off the calendar)

Ambulance X extracts several consultants from the slow gumming death at the office orifice. Ambulance Y imprisons the sigh of the recent amputee and dumps her in the xylophone trees. Ambulance X scours the tanning complex for Repunzels rotting in their skin cooking coffins. Ambulance Y drops the body off at the door step!

Ambulance X pulls you out of the party and rubs your freckles like a DJ to his records. Ambulance Y teaches you the word goodbye and cuts up your hands to show you where you stand. Under the monolith of what is love, what is scam, what is tan.

The Ambulance Angels all pull up to your doorstep. The sirens flash emergency, "you'd better come quick." The Ambulance Angels chisel a crack in your mouth, and then they paint a landscape with your regret and shouts.

Roll tape! Decode the moans! Roll tape! Decode the moans!
Ventilate the scandal from these locked up mouth holes.

You'll never see your wife and children again so tell us what was going through your head when you looked into their eyes and said, "no thanks, I'll take the hooker instead."

Roll tape! Decode the moans!
Roll tape! Decode the moans!
And ventilate the scandal from these locked-up mouth holes!

You'll never see that office again, so when the nurse amputates both of your thighs, come a little bit closer to the mic and tell us what you miss more: your desk or the hungry sky?

The Ambulance Angels pull up to the graveyard and leave you there bubbling broken sonnets and shards. The Ambulance Angels notify your next of kin and show them the scrap book of your operation:

"His head was a faucet leaking love, laughter, and lies: all his secret wishes, all his world-famous sighs. But before you roll over, before you give in, just remember we're coming back for your children"

Fingers: 1-900-USA-NAILS
Prisoner: Operator, I love you. Operator, I would never leave you.. I'd like to see your face pressed up against the glass .... I need to hear the way your tongue tastes in my ear

Operator: (Put the receiver to your chest and let me know who loves you best.)

Prisoner: The county sheriff said that my baby is dead. They found him in some trash can, blue, all jawed-up and chewed. But don't judge me, I'm not his real mother. I couldn't even recognize his face, his skin like a subway running over spinal tracks

Operator, can I confide in you? They haven't got an ounce of proof! Those pigs locked me up here to see what color
I'd rot into, I'd rot into
I'd rot into, I'd rot into
I'd rot into, I'd rot into
I'd rot into

(it wasn't me it was my false tiger limbs. it wasn't me it was the garbage gryphon!)

When I walk, I walk alone. Operator, come on...
When I watch you through the phone...
Operator, come on and de-pupil these eyes. The love scenes grafted to the sky are making me cry

Prisoner: 1-900-USA-NAILS, oh baby.
I get one phone call a day from Molson County jail
Operator: 1-900-USA-NAILS, oh baby
98 cents per minute, cash or credit, check or debit

Prisoner: When I walk, I walk alone. Operator, come on...
When I watch you through the phone...
Operator, come on and de-pupil these eyes. You know you're gonna make me cry. Baby, they're making me cry

Operator-rator, won't you tell me again?
Operator-rator, yeah you're my only friend
Operator-rator, won't you tell me again?
Operator-rator, yeah you're my only friend

Operator: Do you remember that night in the back of daddy's car... The way you strummed the chords of your pubic guitar... You tasted just like a movie star... The way the windshield reflected the sunrise... The way the light tattooed your thighs... Oh, you're the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world...
Our time is up. Until next time, I'll send you the bill...

Prisoner: Can you hear the buildings!? Crumbling in slow motion!? Blow me up like a balloon! We'll float over the ocean!

Now listen, can you hear them taking me away!? Don't tell those fucking guards what I've said! And can you see the angels stringing wires through my face!?

Meet me next week, same time, same place!!

Operator:
So meet me next week, same time, same place
So meet me next week, same time, same place
So meet me next week, same time, same place
So meet me next week, same time, same place
So meet me next week, same time, same place
So meet me next week, same time, same place
So meet me next week, same time, same place

We are the cock-eyed children left to babble in tarantula glue.
We are the shock-eyed children left to suckle straw in the soap opera zoo.
We are the engines pumping out children strangled bystatic from the noisy sun.
So won't you tell us what's brewing in your trenches?
Let us see what you've got hidden under the web.
Come on, come on, what's listening in those stretch marks?
Tell us, tell us, taxman, what you meant when you said...
Sleep, eat, own, fuck,
Abandoned like a bombed out conversation.
Phone, TV, sweets, suck,
I pledge allegiance to the small talk nation.
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked,
Gaping like a cracked open piñata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed,
Pink tarantula teeth in our pina coladas.
What's cooking in your stain? (come on taxman)
The sleepy clang of cash register fangs
What's cooking our sun? (come on taxman)
The addictive hum of bubble gum slums
Come on taxman!
This withered milk tree that you call love collapses like an empty glove..
Feed it! (yeah ) Suck it! (yeah) Own it! (yeah) Fuck it! (yeah)
And we know that sewing on another asshole wont make us shit more,
but who can resist a two-for-one at the pink tarantula store?
Pink tarantula! (Yeah!)
Pink tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
Pink tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!
When you wake up in the morning the rising sun shines through its frosted veil.
We'll always lay together dreaming of other people under the poison hail.
You look so disgusting, all pink and puckered, covered with tarantula hair.
You look so disgusting I can feel the sight rotting off of my prowling stare.
And we know that TV fed us our first footsteps, but the Ketamine is gonna teach us, teach us, teach us,
gonna teach us, teach us, teach us just how to crawl.
We are the cross-eyed children misled to yellow in tarantula webs.
Yeah we are the gawk-eyed children chained to rot in the designer fuck beds.
Sleep, eat, own, fuck,
Abandoned like a bombed out conversation.
Phone, TV, sweets, suck,
I pledge allegiance to the small talk nation.
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked,
Gaping like a cracked open piñata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed,
Pink tarantula teeth in our pina coladas
Pink tarantula! (Yeah!)
Pink tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
Pink tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!