| In lonely gas stations with mini-marts
|
| You’ll find rows of them for sale
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| Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley
|
| Screw his head off and drink like a vampire
|
| His disciples flock to such a fitting shrine
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| Sprawled across from his graceless mansion
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| A shopping mall
|
| Filled with prayer rugs and Elvis dolls
|
| And I wonder
|
| Yeah I wonder
|
| Will Elvis take the place of Jesus in a thousand years
|
| Religious wars
|
| Barbaric laws
|
| Bloodshed worldwide
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| Over what’s left of his myth
|
| A growing boy needs his lunch
|
| When pesticides get banned we’re safe up north
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| We just sell them to those other countries
|
| Soon there’s lots of exotic deformed babies
|
| Somehow that’s not our fault
|
| Just dip 'em in glaze paint 'em orange and green
|
| For the Arizona roadside stands
|
| To sell alongside plaster burros and birthbaths
|
| And I wonder
|
| Yeah I wonder
|
| Why so many insects around us feed off the dead
|
| Death squads
|
| Starvation
|
| Foreign aid?
|
| Just leave it to the magic of the marketplace
|
| A growing boy needs his lunch
|
| Everyone should just love each other
|
| Dip your toe into the fire
|
| Drop your guns and lawsuits and love each other
|
| Life begins beyond the bunker
|
| And while you’re busy hugging in the streets
|
| Outgrowing your hatred for all to feel
|
| Jiminy Cricket’s found a game to play
|
| Stick your neck out and trust-It'll be chopped away
|
| Jimmy through your locked front doors
|
| Rifle through your sacred drawers
|
| Line my pockets
|
| Deface your dreams
|
| Til the cows come home to me
|
| Nibbling like an earwig winding through your brain
|
| Bound like Lawrence Harvey spreadeagle to a bed
|
| The migraine gets worse when we find out we lay eggs
|
| And no one in all of Borneo can hear you scream
|
| Turn on
|
| Tune in
|
| Cop out
|
| Drop kick Turn in Tune out |